Conjugal Glue
by frostygossamer
Summary: Withdrawn after an assault, pediatrician Dean is visited by handsome therapist Sam, a man with two shocking secrets. AU Sam/Dean slash romance. Warning: implied Alastair/Dean noncon. COMPLETE
1. The Pediatrician

Summary: Withdrawn after an assault, pediatrician Dean is visited by handsome therapist Sam, a man with two shocking secrets. AU Sam/Dean slash romance. Warning: implied Alastair/Dean noncon.

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><p>AN: This one started life as a vaguely Mills & Boone original idea and then morphed into a slightly 'different' but still pretty fluffy romance.

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><p>Conjugal Glue (Part 1: The Pediatrician) by frostygossamer<p>

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><p>"Tell me about your hubby, sweetie?" urged the cute guy in her bed.<p>

Lisa chuckled. "Now why would you wanna know about that dipstick, Gabe? Jealous?"

"Sure I'm jealous, sweetie," Gabriel responded. "Curious too."

"Well, like me, he's on staff at Welby Memorial," she explained. "And he's one brilliant doctor. I'll give him that. Just not much of a human being, is all."

"Oh really?" her companion commented. "And you work together?"

"Sometimes," Lisa agreed. "We're colleagues. Can't fault him as a colleague. Patients love him, co-workers love him, everyone in the whole damn department loves him, right down to the lowliest janitor. He knows everyone's name. Has time for everyone. The only people can't stand him are management, and me of course."

Gabriel smirked. "I don't think you could hate anyone, sweetie," he commented.

"Guess not. Not like it's his fault completely. In fact it's kinda mine, in a way. Me and his old college roomie Ash, that is."

"And how would that be?" Gabriel asked, taking Lisa's feet into his lap to massage them. "Your fault how exactly?"

Lisa sighed. "You see Dean lost his parents kinda tragically."

"Oh, bad luck," he commented.

"Yeah, bad luck. His parents were a couple pretty famous people. The Winchesters, John and Mary? Heard of them?"

"Oh yeah. I've heard of them, sure. They wrote those great books on health for the layman. John was a military surgeon and Mary was a psychologist, right? A real vanquisher of the inner demon. I read one or two on long flights. Hey, but didn't they both die in some terrible accident?"

"Uh-huh, house fire," Lisa nodded. "Right in the middle of our final year at Med School. Dean was devastated. That's where his drop-out ex-roomie Ash came in with his bottomless supply of uppers and downers. He got Dean through his finals, true, but he was never the same guy after that."

"Shame," Gabriel remarked insincerely.

"Gabe, I don't think he's been sober in years," Lisa continued bitterly. "Any sorta personal problem and he takes refuge in a bottle or pills. Dean's health is all shot to hell. Our marriage is a train wreck."

She sighed sadly. "If we'd had kids, well, maybe that could have saved it. But Dean can't get me pregnant. Not like we haven't tried, but there's something screwy with his, you know, sperm. Still, it's not like Dean hasn't been practising on every available female in the hospital."

"So that's why you two split? He was unfaithful?"

"Diligently. Yeah, well, there was only so long I could ignore it. And only so long I could put up with coming second to his job."

Gabriel grinned. "Well, sweetie, you're always gonna come first with me," he whispered.

~0~

Dean's new apartment was a cold, bleak little box within ten minutes drive of the hospital. It wasn't like he couldn't have afforded something better, even on thirty per cent of their communal property. But why the hell bother? He wasn't going to be there too much of his time. He expected to be in the hospital most of every day. He never felt truly happy anyplace else.

"Lisa would have had something wise-ass to say about that," he thought.

It was a bummer divorcing Lisa, just the same. At first she had insisted it would be amicable. But that was before she found out she was pregnant. With some other guy's kid! Then she reckoned that she was gonna need every cent she could get her hands on and her lawyers had leaned on him big time. Not that he really begrudged her. He would have given her the baby too if he could have, and that was the real bummer.

"Jeez, what wouldn't I have given to be a dad?" he thought bitterly.

In his heart Dean felt empty and lost. He felt orphaned. He opened the fridge and took out a bottle of beer.

"Hi, old friend, least you and your buddies didn't desert me," he quipped sadly.

~0~

Next morning, despite nursing a slight hang-over, Dean turned up as usual at Welby Memorial hospital. He grinned at the small crumpled guy pushing a janitorial broom around the hospital foyer.

"Hi, Cas," he said. "How's it hanging?"

"I believe everything is suspended satisfactorily, Dean," the guy replied.

Dean shook his head affectionately. "Cas, you crease me up," he declared.

A fond smile played around the janitor's eyes. Dean patted him on the shoulder and carried on up to Pediatrics to greet his patients.

"Hello there, Claire. Scheduled for 10:30, huh? Feeling lucky?" he joked.

Teenager Claire, a heart patient with a schoolgirl crush on the handsome doctor, beamed at him brightly.

"You're in a good mood this morning, Dr. Winchester" she giggled.

"Always in a good mood, sweetheart," he replied cheerfully, faking his best sunny smile, as always.

A pretty new nurse accidentally bumped into him on his way to the cafeteria.

"Oh hi, Dr. Winchester. Isn't it a beautiful morning?" she said, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Baby, it's always a beautiful morning when you're around," he answered, trotting out a familiar line. "Call me Dean."

"I'm Carmen, Dean. Carmen Porter. I'm new," she said, smiling coyly.

"Not for much longer, Carmen," he replied, with a naughty wink.

~0~

While he was sitting in the cafeteria, not really enjoying a nasty cup of coffee and a slightly leaden donut, his boss, the acerbic Meg, appeared by his table and flopped down across from him with a sigh.

"Morning, Meg," he greeted her. "Sorry, no babies on the menu today."

"Don't you 'Morning' me, Winchester," Meg spat. "I've just spent two hours trying to account for YOUR expenses last month. Plus trying to talk the Chief Administrator outta firing your ass, after what you said to him at the budget meeting yesterday. Damn it, Dean, if you weren't such a hotshot pediatrician you would have been out on your pert behind long ago."

Dean chuckled mirthlessly. "You need me, Meg," he insisted. "It's down to me that the department's survival stats are so high. Don't you forget that."

Meg grimaced. "Just take your eye off of the ball for one second, Winchester," she threatened, "and goodbye. Remember that."

Dean grinned. He finished his coffee and abandoned his donut.

"Just as well I'm a workaholic, huh?" he replied, standing up.

He went back to work.

~0~

The rest of the week chugged along as usual. When Dean arrived for work early Friday morning there was a buzz in the air.

Dean pulled Meg aside. "What's the scuttlebutt, Meg?" he asked, suspicious.

Meg glanced up and down the corridor conspiratorially then assumed a wicked smirk.

"There's a federal prisoner coming in today for an assessment. The Head of Surgery will be performing the op. Apparently," and then she leaned in and lowered her voice, "the guy will only be referred to as 'Alastair', and he's a very, very, VERY dangerous psychopathic serial killer. He was one of America's Most Wanted, been on Death Row for years."

"Ooh," Dean responded in mock amazement. "Just as well he's not my case. Me, I would probably leave a scalpel in the scuzzbag or something."

"Don't even JOKE," Meg retorted.

~0~

Dean returned to the ward and was getting on with his everyday paperwork when there was a sudden commotion. A group of nurses, including Nurse Carmen, rushed into the room Dean was working in alone, faces flushed and eyes big with fright.

"He escaped!" Carmen screamed.

Dean looked confused for a moment.

"The psycho, Alastair, he got away from the Feds and he grabbed a gun! Oh my God, he's coming this way!" she yelped.

Dean jumped to his feet. "You girls get outta here through the window. I'll hold him off until you're safe. OK?"

Carmen nodded, and she and the other nurses began to climb out of the window onto the balcony below. Just as the last girl's foot disappeared, there was a growl from behind Dean. He spun around.

Alastair was well over six foot of seething fury toting a loaded pistol.

"Now, friend," Dean began, trying to instil calm. "There's no need for anyone to get hurt."

The monster laughed. "You think?" he retorted.

He advanced a couple steps toward Dean, who took a couple steps backward, keeping his desk between him and the giant. The tall guy grabbed the corner of the desk, hauled it out of the way, like it weighed nothing, and kept on coming.

Dean glanced around vainly for something to defend himself with.

"Look," he said firmly. "You're never gonna get outta this place in one piece. May as well give it up to the Feds right now."

"Oh sure," the guy chortled and, rushing at Dean, he pinned him up against the back wall of the office. "Sure I could. But that would be so... uninteresting."

The monster pressed his body up against Dean's and cackled viciously. Dean gasped and struggled against the fiend's strength. Holding him with one hand around the throat, Alastair ran his other down Dean's chest and belly then snatched painfully at his crotch.

Dean gasped, "Lemme go, douchebag!" right in his ear. Panic was rising in the good doctor's chest.

"Hey, Doc, you wanna party with me, huh?" Alastair growled, menacingly.

"Son of a bitch," Dean hissed defiantly. "You touch me and you die."

The giant just laughed and proceeded to beat the crap out of him. Dean was no match for a demented maniac. Soon he was bleeding, bruised and broken, crushed into a corner of the room with no escape.

Alastair began to unbutton his pants.

"Now for the fun part," he drawled, with an evil leer.

An awful realization sent a shiver down Dean's spine.

"Oh shit!" he gasped. "N-no."

TBC

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><p>AN: And here we draw a veil over events. Poor Dean, loss, addiction, sterility, divorce and now a fate worse than death! More tomorrow.


	2. The Janitor

Summary: Withdrawn after an assault, pediatrician Dean is visited by handsome therapist Sam, a man with two shocking secrets. AU Sam/Dean slash romance. Warning: implied Alastair/Dean noncon

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><p>Conjugal Glue (Part 2: The Janitor) by frostygossamer<p>

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><p>The FBI eventually recaptured their fugitive, as he tried to jump a train a half mile outside the nearest train station. Back at the hospital, Alastair's various victims were treated and patched up. One Fed and one security guy had been shot dead, and two or three hospital staff had been nicked by stray bullets. One poor guy had been knee-capped.<p>

And Dean?

Dr. Winchester's face had been reduced to a bloody pulp, he had broken ribs, broken wrist and smashed fingers plus... Some traumas are just too much to report to the authorities. Some traumas you have to get over alone...

Besides, it's pretty hard to explain exactly what you've been through if you're not prepared to speak. When stringing words into sentences doesn't seem to signify anymore. When being mute just seems to be so much more easy.

Dean spent a few weeks admitted to the hospital having his injuries treated and then, when his body seemed to be on the mend, he was transferred to the Psychiatric ward. There he sat day after day just staring out the window, acknowledging no one.

~0~

Lisa came to see Dean soon after the incident. She brought his pal Ash along. Lisa would have liked to give Dean a hug and tell him that she was glad that he was OK, that he had survived his ordeal, that, damn it, she did still care about him. And she would have if he hadn't just stared past her like she wasn't there.

"Oh Dean," she said. "At least you're still alive, thank God. That guy was a psycho! I coulda been wearing black at your funeral right now. You should be grateful that you're still breathing. He KILLED two guys!"

"Yeah," Ash agreed, busy eating the candy Lisa had brought for Dean. "Got your life, man. Coulda been laying on a slab in the morgue right now."

None of this made Dean feel any better. That last bit actually sounded pretty good. Even Lisa could never understand what Dean was feeling, how he was hurting. No one could ever know what that monster had done to him, how he had made him feel, how he was STILL making him feel.

Lisa got to her feet and pecked her ex on the forehead sadly.

"Well, Dean, now you get to stay in your beloved hospital 24/7," she sobbed. "I just hope that makes you happy, honey."

"Yeah, man," Ash agreed.

As they left, Lisa wondered why she had even bothered to come.

~0~

Bleak day followed bleak day in Welby Memorial Hospital Psychiatric ward. Dean spent every day in the patients' lounge, silent and unresponsive. He let the nurses guide him back and forth between his bed and the day room, and feed him bland hospital food. He ignored the girls' professionally cheerful prattle. Even Nurse Carmen, who came to thank him for her life, couldn't persuade him to raise a smile.

After an obligatory period of time had passed, Meg realized that it behooved her to pay her subordinate an official visit. She had to try and find out if he was going to be fit to return to work, or if she should be initiating the recruitment of a new member for her team. Meg hated visiting the sick. She had better things to do with her time.

Meg was waiting for the elevator when Castiel wandered by with his janitor's cart. She was struggling with an armful of paperwork, her coat and her fashionably huge purse.

"Would you like me to carry some of that for you, Ms. Masters?" Castiel offered helpfully.

"Sure," Meg answered, dumping the lot into his hands.

Right then the elevator bell rang and its doors opened. Meg and Castiel trooped in and rode up to Psychiatrics together.

Meg went straight on into the patients' lounge, with Castiel trailing forgotten behind her.

"So here you are, Winchester," she began, as soon as she noticed Dean sitting alone by the window staring out at the rain.

She pulled up a chair then sat down and crossed her legs impatiently. Castiel stood awkwardly behind her chair.

"Don't bother to say hello," she continued sarcastically. "I hear your snarky little tongue has taken a vacation lately. Can't say I'm not thrilled about that. I'm just here so I can tick a little box on a form, Dean. This isn't social."

Dean went right on ignoring his visitor.

"Well," Meg sighed, getting straight up again and smoothing her designer suit. "Just so you know. You have until the end of the month and then I have to start the process of requesting a new member for my team. That is unless you feel like rejoining the real world?"

When Dean didn't reply Meg shrugged. "I won't be holding my breath, Dean," she said.

Meg wandered off to talk to a psychiatric nurse about Dean's case, but Castiel remained standing beside Dean. He stared at the sad young guy for a moment in silence.

Castiel, although he appeared simple to most people, was actually a very intuitive person. He could tell the difference between someone who had been physically hurt, and was angry at the world, and someone who had been emotionally scarred, and was angry at himself.

Castiel smiled gently at the confused young guy in whom he had taken a special interest, ever since he had first come to work in Welby Memorial Hospital, a young man with whom Castiel had always felt a profound bond.

"I know," he whispered gently. "I know what happened, Dean. I know what he did. I know how you feel. And I will find you someone to make it better. I promise."

Dean didn't make any show of hearing that promise, but Castiel knew he had heard. When Meg returned, she and Castiel both went back to their regular jobs.

Castiel now realized he had a mission to rescue Dean Winchester from the Hell in which he had found himself and make things right by him.

~0~

Castiel was famous throughout the hospital as that quiet guy who could get stuff and find things out. He was part of a network of gossipmongers. What most people didn't know was that his grapevine extended further than the hospital, and to levels unguessed at by anyone.

He set his grapevine in motion, and soon found himself with the info on just the right person to solve his priority problem.

Sam Singer was a reformed character. For the past two years, he had been practising as a self-help therapist in Chicago. He dealt chiefly with young ex-offenders and petty criminals who needed support to leave behind a life of crime and make something of their lives.

Sam was an expert because he was an ex-con himself who after more than a decade involved in crime had seen the light, turned over a new leaf and decided to dedicate himself to saving others from ending up the way he had. He had turned his back even on his own family to pursue a life of criminality, something he now bitterly regretted.

After another AA-style meeting of ex-offenders, Sam had finally closed his office door and settled down in a chair, with a much needed mug of coffee, when the phone rang.

"Hello. Is that Samuel Singer?" a voice asked.

"That's me. What can I do for you?" Sam responded.

"Oh hello, Sam, this is Castiel," the voice replied. "Remember me?"

Sam searched his memory. "Oh yeah! Castiel Seraphos? Dude, how are you doing?" he asked, happy to hear a voice from his past.

"I am doing well, Sam," Castiel replied. "And I think I have a task for you that you would be interested in."

Sam was intrigued. Castiel went on to tell him about Dean and his condition, and suggested that Sam's skills as a therapist and more could be just what were needed.

"I'm just a therapist, Cas," Sam objected. "Not a doctor."

"Yes, I am aware," Castiel insisted. "But the help Dean needs isn't just medical, Sam. You see, Dean is like me, and what he needs most is someone like you, I believe. Because, well, he doesn't know. And he needs to know. He needs the right person to show him."

"Really?" Sam replied. "He doesn't know? How come?"

"He was raised by his Mom and Dad," Castiel explained. "They died."

"Ah," Sam responded, understanding. "And you think I might be this 'right' person?"

"Yes," Castiel agreed. "I do. And I also believe the Syndicate would appreciate your efforts."

Sam inhaled sharply. "The Syndicate knows about this case?" he asked.

"Of course," Castiel replied. "The Syndicate cares, Sam."

Sam considered. "OK. Give me the details. I'll fly out in a couple days. Don't want the Syndicate to think I don't give a damn. Can't hurt to see the guy, I guess."

"Good!" Castiel answered enthusiastically. "You will be glad you agreed, Sam," and he hung up.

Sam sat thinking for a moment. Since when had the Syndicate remembered about his sorry ass? Well, he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the teeth. Any chance to get back in with the family was worth the shoe leather. This might turn out to be one huge waste of time, but as least he would have looked willing. They couldn't ask for more than that.

He called and booked himself a plane ticket, round-trip.

TBC

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><p>AN: But just wait till he meets his Dean. More tomorrow.


	3. The Therapist

Summary: Withdrawn after an assault, pediatrician Dean is visited by handsome therapist Sam, a man with two shocking secrets. AU Sam/Dean slash romance. Warning: implied Alastair/Dean noncon

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><p>AN: Yesterday's chapter took hours to come online. Hope they've solved the problems.

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><p>Conjugal Glue (Part 3: The Therapist) by frostygossamer<p>

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><p>It was another day in Welby Memorial Hospital. Dean was staring out the dayroom window again. It was a nice sunny day outside but that didn't register much with him. Sun or rain didn't matter to Dean. Every day was gray.<p>

He was sitting in his usual armchair, just after finishing a totally unedifying lunch, when the door opened and a tall, well-built and good-looking guy entered the room. The newcomer glanced around, then collared Nurse Carmen and whispered with her urgently for a second, before coming over to Dean and plonking himself in a nearby chair.

He regarded Dean silently for a few moments, steepling his fingers and chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully, before he spoke.

"You don't know me yet, Mr. Winchester, uh, Dean. May I call you Dean? Sure I can. You don't know me yet, but the two of us are gonna become good friends. Real good friends."

Dean ignored him. The newcomer brushed off the cold shoulder and smiled broadly. He leaned forward.

"My name is Sam, Sam Singer," he continued. "I'm a therapist. Between the two of us we're going to find a way to get you talking again. That's my job here and I'm very dedicated to my job. I don't give up, Dean."

Dean continued to stare blankly. Sam moved his chair so that he could get a better look at his patient's face. He was moved. This was a beautiful person in front of him. Hair lank and unkempt, skin dry, chin stubbly, bags under his eyes, but still beautiful. What they used to call 'elegantly wasted'. Sam felt his heart clench in sympathetic pain. There was no way he was going to walk away from this guy.

As he got up to leave, sensing there was nothing more he could do for the guy right then, Sam patted Dean on the shoulder.

"I WILL be back," he insisted and left.

On the way back to his hotel, Sam called a realtor.

~0~

"What exactly are we looking for?" the realtor asked, scrolling through her website. "A permanent home? A vacation place? A business address?"

Sam leaned toward her and grinned. "A love-nest," he said.

"Ooh," she replied chuckling. "Well, I do have some lovely, cosy little properties on my books."

They spent the evening visiting most of the realtor's portfolio. Her final property was an elegant little open-plan penthouse apartment, with a breathtaking view over the city.

Sam glanced quickly over the layout of the apartment, then went straight out on the balcony. He filled his lungs with the uber-fresh air.

"I'll take this," he said immediately.

The woman was taken aback by this sudden decisiveness.

"Oh, really? Well, great!" she said. "I have the details here..."

"Don't worry about that," Sam cut in. "This is the place. He'll love this. It's full of..." he searched around for the right phrase, "new beginnings."

The realtor chuckled. "Well, I sure hope 'he' does," she remarked. "This is the most expensive property I have."

~0~

From that day on, Sam visited Dean every day. Even though Dean persisted in completely ignoring his presence, Sam persisted in turning up and chatting away to him about life outside the hospital, news, sport, current affairs, celebrity gossip, anything. Every day at 2pm he would arrive, regular as clockwork. Until the day he didn't.

Three days later he reappeared at the regular time. On the way into Psychiatrics he spoke to Nurse Carmen about Dean.

"Oh hello, Mr. Singer," she greeted him cheerfully. "You're back."

"Yep," Sam replied. "He been OK?"

Carmen smiled sadly. "Same as usual, I'm afraid. No change. Sorry."

"Damn it," he swore. "Was kinda hoping for some flicker of interest, when I didn't appear as usual."

Carmen thought a moment. "Actually, I did catch him looking at my watch a couple times."

"Bingo," Sam grinned. "There's a spark still burning in that numb skull of his. Now let's see if I can ignite the gas."

He walked over and sat down beside Dean. "Hi," he said. No reply.

Sam stared into Dean's face until he was pretty sure Dean and he were making eye contact.

"You know, if you'd asked for me, I'da been back sooner," he said. "That is assuming you're not brain-dead in there."

Dean let go a tiny involuntary groan.

Sam laughed. "Yeah. I know. Not brain-dead. Just dead inside, huh?"

Dean closed his eyes and sighed.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry," Sam apologized. "Just trying to force a reaction."

Sam spent the rest of the afternoon talking about everything and nothing, as usual. However, this time he knew Dean was listening.

~0~

For a few more weeks, Sam came to see Dean every day, as before. Then one day, just as he was getting ready to leave, he pretended to remember something.

"Oh yeah, and by the way I'm gonna be flying back home for a few days. Got some business to wind up in Chicago. I'll see you again when I get back, whenever that is."

He checked out Dean's face for any expression of happiness or unhappiness with that news. Nada.

"Soon as I find out how long it's gonna take, I'll check in with the hospital here. Let them know when I expect to be finished up there. OK?"

As expected Dean made no response to that question, so Sam put on his coat and left.

Sam flew up to Chicago and closed down his therapy practice, first finding an alternative therapist who was prepared to take on his existing caseload. He made sure everyone who needed it had his number, in case of emergency. He knew better than to leave his people hanging. He had been there himself.

Then he flew back to Dean.

~0~

It took almost a full week before Sam's absence became too much for Dean to endure. It was almost 3pm on another dreary day, and Nurse Carmen was just returning from spending the last five minutes with her nose pressed against the patients' lounge window, trying to judge just how wet she was going to get on the way home, when he caught her wrist as she passed him by.

"Dr. Singer..." he whispered.

His voice was a little reedy after its long silence, so he tried again.

"Dr. Singer, has he called yet to say he's back in town? Back from Chicago?"

"Dr. Singer?" Carmen repeated uncertainly. "Oh, you mean your visitor, Mr. Singer?"

"MISTER Singer?" Dean queried. "He's not a doctor? But he's a psychotherapist here, right?"

The nurse realized his mistake and gave him a gentle smile.

"Oh no, Dean," she replied. "Sam's not on staff. He's just a visitor. A friend of Cas the janitor, I believe. He doesn't work here. He was only coming in to visit with you."

"Uh?" Dean responded, confused. "Thought..."

"Do you want me to check and see if he left a message?"

Dean nodded absently and Carmen scurried off. She was back in a couple of minutes.

"Day after tomorrow," she told him.

~0~

Two days later Sam turned up a little early, anxious to see Dean again. Dean was waiting for him.

"Hi, Dean. How've you been?" Sam asked. "Missed me?" he added ironically.

Dean grumbled. "Where do you get off telling me you're a psychotherapist, Singer."

Sam was amazed to hear Dean's voice for the first time. It was deeper and more husky than he had expected. But he decided not to make a thing of it.

"Never said I was a psychotherapist, Dean. Said I was a therapist. Which I am. I'm a self-help therapist. I work with ex-cons."

"And you don't work for the hospital?"

"Nope."

"So why the hell are you even here?"

"Came because I was asked to, as a favour. Stayed because I realized you needed help, Dean, and wanted to be that help."

"Out of charity," Dean snapped.

"Charity is one word for it, I guess," Sam agreed.

"Ass-hat," Dean opined.

Sam laughed. "Gotten you talking though," he pointed out.

"Don't appreciate the irony," Dean commented.

They fell quiet for a moment, then Dean asked,

"So you know Cas the janitor? That little crumpled guy always with the broom?"

"Uh-huh," Sam replied. "He's kinduva friend of a friend. Known him for years."

"And HE asked you to come see me?"

"Yeah. He did. Cas is a good guy like that. He cares, you know. And he worries about you."

"Didn't even know he knew about me."

"Oh yeah. He knows about you," Sam insisted. "He knows more than you think. He grokked you good. He's the only one that did, only one that could."

"That's Cas," Dean agreed. "Everyone else round here reckons he's some 'retard'."

"Dude," Sam laughed, "is Castiel Seraphos so NOT some 'retard'."

~0~

Soon after that, Sam had Dean far enough along the path to normality that he had started to think about getting back to work.

"So why is it you wanted so much to be a pediatrician, Dean?" Sam asked one day.

"Dunno," Dean replied. "Guess I just wanted to pick up where Dad left off, saving people, healing things, the family business. And I like kids. Maybe I'm just a people person. It's my calling."

"Maybe you like to heal other people because you can't heal yourself, huh?" Sam suggested.

"Maybe," Dean allowed.

"So what's gotten you sitting around here on your tush while there are patients downstairs who need you, Dean? Answer me that."

"Can't, Sam. Can't explain and I don't wanna. Don't ask me to talk about it. Jeez, don't wanna even THINK about it. It's too much."

"OK," Sam agreed. "And in the meantime you're gonna let your people twist in the wind?"

That made Dean feel kind of guilty.

"No. Guess Dad and Mom would kick my ass if they could see me now."

~0~

That's how it was that, two days later, Dean was back down in Pediatrics arguing with Meg about getting back to work.

"Dean, I can't sign off on you being fit to wield a scalpel," she pointed out.

"My hand is as steady as a rock, Meg," he retorted, holding out a rock-steady hand. "And how many of your team could you ever truthfully sign off on that, huh?"

Meg conceded. "OK. But for now you can tutor the trainees and observe, nothing more, Dean. I don't want any nasty expensive mistakes."

Dean was soon back in his element and, for a while, he was putting the past as far behind him as he was able.

TBC

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><p>AN: So Sam's got Dean back to work, for now. But that's just the beginning. He's got more hurdles to jump. More tomorrow.


	4. The Penthouse

Summary: Withdrawn after an assault, pediatrician Dean is visited by handsome therapist Sam, a man with two shocking secrets. AU Sam/Dean slash romance. Warning: implied Alastair/Dean noncon

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><p>Conjugal Glue (Part 4: The Penthouse) by frostygossamer<p>

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><p>Sam had popped into an Italian grocery store for supplies. He was going to make something extra-special for dinner that night, and he was bouncing with anticipation. He threw his purchases onto the passenger seat of his car and jumped in, but before he could start the engine, a voice interrupted him from the gloom of the back seat.<p>

"Sam Singer?" the sinister voice asked.

Sam sighed wearily. "A little Chandleresque, huh Cas?"

The owner of the voice leaned on the back of the front seat.

"Hi Sam," he said. "How are things?"

"Pretty good," Sam replied. "What's with the mystery?"

Castiel adopted a grave expression.

"Got a message from the Syndicate, Sam," he explained. "They got this, um, opportunity. The man they called 'Alastair', he has transgressed. He needs to be taught a lesson, permanently. The Syndicate want to know if you're up for the job."

Sam inhaled sharply. "They know I'm legit now, right?" he asked.

"Indeed," Castiel agreed. "But the right belongs to you as the victim's, um, guardian. They are giving you first refusal, but the malefactor will be dealt with anyways. He sinned big time. What do I tell them?"

Sam gritted his teeth. "Tell them 'Hell yeah!'," he answered. "Get me the time and place and I'll be there."

"It will be arranged." Castiel nodded and got out the car.

He leaned into the driver's window.

"It will be a righteous act, Sam," he pronounced, and disappeared into the night.

Sam shook his head wearily. His good mood had just gotten shot to hell.

~0~

It was a normal day on the ward. Just a normal day. Dean was making his rounds as usual, mind full of medical procedures and after care, everything safely hygienic and impersonal. And then it happened, completely out of nowhere.

Dean was wasting a few minutes with a little kid who had been in and out of the hospital numerous times with a lung condition. He was trying to cheer the poor kid up with a couple of his cleaner stories from Med School. The TV on the wall across from his bed was murmuring on a too low volume, just for company, and Dean happened to glance up at the wrong moment.

It was some kind of news story on the screen. A jail break? A mysterious killing? And right in front of him, there was the ugly mug of Alastair himself.

If Dean had been some girl, which he most definitely was not, he would have fainted right there and then. He came damn close. His head swirling, the stab of almost physical pain was too much to bear. He escaped from the room, mind in panic.

All he could think to do was go look for his stash, his trusty stash of drugs, and try to kill that pain. He found them in the back of his locker, tucked into the loose binding of an old medical journal, his Dad's. He stared down at the pills for a long moment, then inhaled sharply and took out his cellphone.

He called Sam. The call went to voicemail. He tried three times. Voicemail every time.

"Where the hell are you when I need you, Sam," he whimpered into the phone.

Then he took the pills. All of them.

A few minutes later a member of staff found him passed out on the floor,unconscious.

~0~

The minute Sam stepped off of the plane, he realized that his cellphone had been switched off ever since he arrived in Jackson. He switched it on right away and was shocked by an avalanche of voicemail, texts and missed calls. He went through them quickly, growing more anxious by the second.

Dean had had some sort of crisis? He had taken an overdose? He was found barely alive? He had been readmitted to the hospital? Sam hurried straight to Dean's bedside.

"For God's sake, Dean, what in the hell did you think you were doing?" he yelled, the moment he arrived.

Sam's anger at himself was making him sound way harsher than he meant.

In his hospital bed, Dean covered his ears. "Couldn't get through to you," he explained weakly. "Call went to voicemail. C-couldn't hack it alone, Sam."

"So you decided to just end it?" Sam demanded in disbelief. "Dude, since when has whiskey not been strong enough? You took enough pills to kill an elephant."

Dean tried to justify himself. "Used to do more than that, Sam. Just... forgot that you can't do so many when you've been clean a while, is all. Just needed to kill the pain."

Sam forced himself to calm down. Shouting at Dean when he was fragile was not going to help him. He sat on the corner of the bed and put on a smile.

"OK. OK," he said, voice gentle. "Soon as you're discharged I'm gonna take you home."

~0~

As soon as Dean was physically fit enough to leave the hospital, Sam put him in his car and drove him home. Sam was not impressed by the cold, lifeless, gray apartment Dean had been living in.

He wandered around poking things and sneering, while Dean sat on his couch with his eyes closed, feeling drained. When Sam returned to the living room, he found that Dean had fallen asleep slumped over the arm of the couch, worn out.

Sam made a decision. He picked Dean up, carried him back out to his car and drove him to HIS place.

~0~

Morning light filtered through Dean's eyelids, as he lay warm and comfortable in a soft bed. Gingerly opening his eyes, at first he couldn't place where he found himself. And then he realized that was because he hadn't been there before. This wasn't the hospital or his apartment. He was laying in a king-sized bed with lilac sheets and a purple bedspread. Definitely not his bed. And to top it off, he was wearing soft cotton pajamas with cute bunnies on them.

"What the...? Freakin' bunnies!" he muttered to himself.

Somewhere beyond a glass brick wall that separated the sleeping area from the rest of the apartment, Dean could hear the rattling of pans and snatches of singing. He slipped out of the bed and padded barefoot into the open-plan kitchen, scratching his messy head. He found Sam making breakfast. It smelled delicious.

Sam glanced up from the stove and smiled when he noticed Dean appear.

"I'm making you Eggs Benedict," he said. "Help yourself to coffee and juice."

Coffee sounded great to Dean right then, but he hesitated.

"This your place?" he asked. Sam nodded.

"So you brought me here last night?"

"Sure," Sam replied. "Dude, that tiny, soviet-bloc apartment of yours was enough to turn any guy depressive. Couldn't leave you there, and I sure as hell wasn't gonna spend the night there myself."

Dean yawned and sat down at the counter. He reached for the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. He raised it to his mouth. It was an expensive blend and it smelled marvelous.

"And you put me in these kiddie pajamas?"

Sam chuckled. "They were a gift, dude. Not exactly my style. But you look pretty cute in them."

Dean frowned. Cute? Huh!

"You put me in your bed?"

Sam turned away from the stove, and plonked a plate of Eggs Benedict in front of Dean.

"Yep," he agreed. "You would have preferred to sleep on the couch?"

"Maybe," Dean answered, defensively. "Depends where you slept, buddy."

"On the couch," Sam replied, pointing in the direction of his living area, where he had a pull-out couch bed made up.

He placed a second plate of eggs on the counter and sat down across from Dean.

"Eat," he commanded.

Dean took a forkful of breakfast. It tasted great.

"Just to be clear. You know I'm straight, right?" he said

Sam chuckled again. "Sure. I know that, Dean. I know you're straight. And so am I, in case you were wondering."

Dean relaxed a little. "Fine," he said and ploughed into his eggs with renewed gusto.

Sam fixed himself a cup of coffee.

"Want you to stay here until you're feeling better, Dean," he said. "Don't want you going back to that sad-ass place you've been living in. Never gonna get well in a hole like that."

"You expect me to stay with you? No way," Dean retorted.

"Dean, I'm not taking no for an answer," Sam replied calmly. "As your therapist..."

"Therapist!" Dean snickered. "Oh sure. Self-help guru, right?"

"As your therapist," Sam repeated, "and your friend, I want to be here for you, when you need support. Because, Dean, I was away for a few days and you know what happened. Won't let that happen again."

Dean paused from eating to give that some thought.

"Sorry for the crack about self-help, man. I'm a physician. To me even psychotherapy's not real medicine. No offence intended."

"None taken, Dean. I'm not equating self-help with real medicine. No comparison, I agree."

Dean smiled. "OK," he allowed grudgingly. "I'll stay a few days. But not in these pajamas."

Sam smirked. "Dude, those pajamas are awesome."

~0~

The morning Dean returned to the Pediatrics ward, he noticed a certain awkwardness from the patients and staff. Nurse Carmen was the first to give him a tentative smile.

"You know, ya don't have to walk on eggshells around me," Dean assured her. "Not gonna freak again anytime soon." He smirked. "I'm on mood stabilizers."

Carmen giggled. "I'm glad you're feeling better, Dean," she said. "But it's not that." She lowered her voice. "It's just the news."

"What news?" Dean demanded suspiciously.

"While you were on time-out. That guy..." She stopped, wishing she hadn't broached the delicate subject. "THAT guy. He was... murdered!"

Dean just stared at her blankly for a moment and then exhaled shakily.

"A-Alastair? He's dead?" he gasped.

"Uh-huh," Carmen confirmed. "It was all over the TV and papers. Sounds like someone got to him. Like what they call a 'hit'. The Feds say they're looking for a professional, but somehow I doubt they'll be looking very hard. That guy was an animal!"

Dean knew all too well exactly what kind of an animal Alastair had been. He swayed back a step and Carmen caught him by the elbows.

"You OK?" she asked solicitously.

Dean smiled faintly. "Oh sure. I'm fine. I'll just... I'll just take a little break. Got a phone call to make," he said and reeled away to the staff breakroom.

TBC

* * *

><p>AN: Poor Dean's emotions are on a roller coaster. More tomorrow.


	5. The Caregiver

Summary: Withdrawn after an assault, pediatrician Dean is visited by handsome therapist Sam, a man with two shocking secrets. AU Sam/Dean slash romance. Warning: implied Alastair/Dean noncon

* * *

><p>Conjugal Glue (Part 5: The Caregiver) by frostygossamer<p>

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><p>"Sam?" Dean gasped into his cell, the moment the call was connected.<p>

"Hi, Dean," Sam responded immediately. "What is it? You OK?"

"Sam... Sam, just found out... That guy, A-Alastair, he's dead!"

There was a heartbeat of silence before Sam responded, "I know, Dean."

"And you didn't tell me?" Dean asked, bewildered.

"Didn't wanna stir up the bad memories."

"They, uh, say he was, uh, taken out. By a professional killer maybe."

"Yeah, heard that. Guess he pissed someone off real bad. The wrong someone."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, feeling a little spaced-out. "Guess so. And it's all good, huh? Guess I should be happy, right? He got his. Everything's peachy."

Sam sighed at his end of the line. "Look, Dean, gonna come get you. OK? I get that you don't know how to feel right now. Need time to absorb this. Just hang tough till I get there. Be there in five."

"Yeah," Dean let go a sigh, feeling relieved. "Good idea, Sam. See ya in five."

He collapsed into a chair and closed his eyes, feeling dazed.

~0~

Sam took Dean back home to the penthouse. Dean, inexplicably emotionally drained all of a sudden, passed out on the bed for an hour. Sam woke him later with a mug of black coffee and some cookies for his blood sugar.

"Thought I woulda felt good 'bout that douchebag getting himself offed," Dean complained, munching a cookie. "But I'm a little steamed."

"Yeah, well, it's a big thing to take in," Sam suggested, rubbing Dean's back. "Just let it sink in slow."

"Worst thing is," Dean continued grumpily, "if he was gonna get hit, shoulda been me. You were me you'd feel the same, right? That it shoulda been you, huh Sam?"

Sam nodded. "Shoulda been me. Yeah, Dean."

~0~

After the dark cloud of Alastair's continued existence had been effectively dispersed from Dean's life, he settled right back into his hospital routine. He wasn't just observing and tutoring now, he was back on the ward doing what he did best.

Staff and patients alike were glad to see him seemingly back to his old self. Even his supervisor, Meg, grudgingly admitted that he was back on form as the best pediatrician on her team.

Dean was still a guest at Sam's penthouse apartment. Sam had forbidden him to even think of returning to his former drab address. He insisted that Dean find somewhere else before he even thought of moving back out, but he wasn't about to encourage him to do that yet a while.

"When you're ready I'll help you find a new apartment," Sam insisted.

"Better be soon," Dean complained. "People are starting to act like we're an item, bud."

"That bother you?" Sam asked casually.

"Not as much as it probably should," Dean admitted.

"Then I guess you're not ready yet," Sam reasoned.

Sam stayed in touch with Dean throughout the day, especially important now that Dean was starting to crank up his hours again. And every night, at the end of Dean's shift, Sam would pick him up at the hospital and take him to dinner, or straight back home to prepare something haute cuisine.

It hadn't taken Sam long to check out the finest eateries in town. He seemed to have a knack for finding the best source of any food Dean could desire, and no matter where they went he always knew what was the best thing on the menu. He chatted up the waiters, explored the kitchens and had a story to tell about every ingredient in every dish. And his own cooking was of cordon bleu standard.

"You know one helluva lot about food, don't you?" Dean remarked, leaning on the kitchen sink as Sam threw together another delicious meal with next to no effort.

"Like to take an interest," Sam admitted. "Always reckoned the culinary art is up there with the fine arts. Learned my cooking from an old Quebequois chef in Montreal. Owed me a little debt. Let him off in exchange for lessons. Worked out good."

"Worked out REAL good," Dean had to agree. "You'll make someone a good wife," he joked.

Sam shot him a questioning look then laughed. "Cooking is great therapy. Gotta love that. Guess I get the love of food from my Mom. It's a Deltaic thing."

"Deltaic?" Dean queried. It wasn't a word he had heard before.

"We're all Deltaics, Dean," Sam explained. "Plus, minus and zero. I'm a plus. Makes me protective, makes me wanna provide. A minus is nurturing, like my Mom. No one on earth would ever starve if she had her way. And zeroes are the caring ones. You're a zero, Dean."

"Oh thanks," Dean complained.

"No, Dean, really, you're a damn fine zero," Sam chuckled. "And it's why you're a great doctor."

Again with the self-help philosophy. Freakin' applesauce!

"Not sure that I like the deal," Dean commented. "Was never into horoscopes either."

"Oh, it works out pretty good. Seriously," Sam insisted. "You'll see."

~0~

After another long day at the hospital, and a sumptuous dinner created by Sam for his delectation, Dean was in a rare warm and fuzzy mood.

Sam joined Dean who was standing on the balcony, enjoying the sight of the sun setting over the city. Tiny pinpricks of light on the streets below flickered like fireflies in the twilight.

Sam glanced across at Dean, once again marveling at how perfect he looked when he was happy. Sam silently moved behind Dean and placed one hand on the banister either side of him.

"So totally peaceful up here," Sam commented.

Dean hummed in agreement. "Sure is," he murmured.

Sam leaned in and planted a ghost of a kiss on the back of Dean's neck. Dean inhaled sharply but didn't pull away.

"Thought you were straight, Sam," he remarked quietly, without turning around. "That's what you told me."

"You just have to take my word on that," Sam chuckled. "Or... maybe I could show you."

Dean smiled gently. "Don't put yourself out on my account," he responded.

"You flirting with me, Dr. Winchester?" Sam heard himself saying.

"Dunno," Dean answered archly. "Am I?"

Sam grasped Dean's waist and spun him around to face him.

"I'd never do anything to hurt you," he swore earnestly. "You do know that, Dean?"

"Know it," Dean replied, with a hint of a chuckle. "Trust you, Sam. You're my therapist, right?"

"Licensed," Sam agreed, smiling, "and qualified to make you feel real good."

Dean's green eyes met Sam's searchingly for a moment. OK, so everyone thought they made a great couple, right? And, truthfully, Dean had never been so centred before Sam came along. This guy, this great guy, was plainly crazy in love with him. How hard would it be to just go with it?

Dean took a deep breath. "Any time now would be fine, Romeo," he whispered.

Sam grinned then leaned forward and kissed him. Dean hesitated a heartbeat before melting into the kiss. It was his first with a man and it was smooth as silk.

"So far so good," he thought, trying not to overthink.

~0~

Sam guided him to the bed, and they helped each other out of their clothes. Then Dean lay down on the bed and Sam crawled over him. He kissed Dean on the lips, the neck, the collarbone, the pecs, and began to move his hips against his. Dean complied at first, but a few seconds in he began to squirm in rising panic.

"No! NO! Sam, please no!" he gasped, struggling out from under the bigger man.

He sat on the side of the bed, breathing raggedly and quivering.

"Sorry. Sorry, Sam. Can't do it. No, just can't." he gasped, manfully choking back a sob.

Sam was agitated by Dean's distress. The last thing he had wanted to do was upset him.

"Dean? You OK?" he asked, stretching out a hand to rub Dean's arm comfortingly. "Did I hurt you? Was I too fast?"

"No," Dean replied, shaking his head. "Not you. Flashback, is all," he explained. "Too much. Way too much."

Dean's evident pain wounded Sam's heart.

"C'mere," Sam said, and wrapped his arms around the smaller man, pulling him in to his warm embrace.

"It's OK, Dean," he murmured. "We don't have to do anything."

Dean smiled feebly and then gave him a peevish prod in the chest.

"Said it's not you, doofus," he insisted. "Was totally up for it. You big lunk, you kinda crowded me and I freaked, is all," and he tried for a chuckle.

Sam rubbed Dean's back and chuckled too.

"Wanna try again?" he asked, after a couple minutes.

"You betcha," Dean answered. "Not letting this thing beat me, dude."

"OK," Sam said. "Let's go for something else."

He rearranged the pillows and sat back against the headboard, then guided Dean into his lap.

Dean smirked down at him. "Want me to ride you, Sam?" he asked.

"Ride me like the Lone Ranger, babe," Sam agreed, grinning sexily.

Dean bobbed down to capture his mouth in an ardent kiss.

"Get ready for a long ride, Tonto," he whispered.

"Mmm," Sam responded. "But let's just take it slow this time, pardner. Nice and slow."

He stared up at Dean with nothing but love in those hazel eyes. Dean felt his initial nerves melting away. This guy loved him. This guy would never hurt him. All Dean wanted to do was bathe in that love, and wash away the bad memories for good.

Dean spread his hands over Sam's ribcage. This was a big guy. Dean was no shrimp but Sam made him feel small and delicate, almost like HE was the girl. Almost.

"Don't worry," Sam breathed. "It's perfectly natural. We're gonna fit just right."

"I trust you, Sam," Dean responded, trying to not let uncertainty enter his voice. "Whatever you want, I'm fine with. Just show me what to do."

Sam smiled warmly. "OK then. Relax, babe. I'm gonna make you purr."

Sam's hands were firm but tender, his lips sweet and hot as chili pepper. He explored Dean in a way no one ever had. Dean closed his eyes tight and let those hands roam his body, touching places that should have remained untouched by far too many of the wrong people.

Sam's fingers wiped away the pain, his gentle lips soothing the hurt and making new again. The ache Dean carried inside began to fade and grow dull under Sam's soft soothing mouth. The wounds in his heart began to mend.

Dean allowed the gentle breakers of Sam's love to sweep over him, into him, through him. Cleansing. Replenishing. Filling him with a love he had never known. How could he have never known...?

And after they came together, Dean slipped into the deepest of sleep, nestled in the curve of Sam's body. It felt like that was where he belonged. He purred.

TBC

* * *

><p>AN: So they're finally on the same page. Or are they? More tomorrow.


	6. The Confession

Summary: Withdrawn after an assault, pediatrician Dean is visited by handsome therapist Sam, a man with two shocking secrets. AU Sam/Dean slash romance. Warning: implied Alastair/Dean noncon

* * *

><p>Conjugal Glue (Part 6: The Confession) by frostygossamer<p>

* * *

><p>When Dean awoke the next morning, he was wrapped up tight in Sam's long arms. He felt warm and safe. Before Alastair he never used to need to feel safe. His ass felt a little sore, but it was a comfortable sort of soreness. He smirked as he imagined Sam's little guys dog-paddling around in his insides.<p>

And he tingled. He tingled from his toes up to his head and right out to his fingertips.

He had felt that tingle only once before, after the... assault. Back then it had turned his stomach to think that an ordeal so hellish could stimulate all his senses that way. It was so wrong, so depraved, so goddamn nasty.

This time it felt like a good tingle, and he couldn't help but smile.

Sam stirred and kissed him on the ear.

"Love that smile, babe," he murmured sleepily.

Dean grinned. "Sam, I'm NOT a pervert," he declared.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Where did that come from?" he asked.

"I thought..." Dean paused, unsure how to convey what he wanted to say.

For months he had been scared to think that maybe he was some kind of twisted masochist who got off on being... abused.

"Thought maybe I was some kinda sicko who only got a buzz from being... battered to shit," he explained sketchily.

Sam regarded him a moment. "And what?" he demanded, sitting up, suddenly energized. "You got a buzz on now?"

"Mmm," Dean agreed, grinning. "Buzzing like a bagful of hairy-ass bumblebees."

Sam grinned back. "Cas and his wrecked freakin' bi-cycle," he exclaimed cryptically.

He grabbed Dean and kissed him energetically on the mouth. Dean didn't know what the hell Sam was talking about, but he wasn't complaining.

"Hey, Sam," he said, sitting up. "Gonna hit the shower. Reckon I'm gonna be late if I don't haul ass."

Sam smirked at him. "You need to be in such a hurry to get back to the hospital? Don't wanna spend a little time refreshing your memory of what we did last night?"

"Sam," Dean scolded him. "I got patients."

The workaholic in him was rearing its head again.

Sam pouted. "Can't spare me a little time, babe?"

Dean leaned down and kissed him on the lips. "Well, um, maybe a little."

He WAS a little late for work that morning.

~0~

After Sam had dropped Dean off at the hospital, he sat in his car in the parking lot for a while. He replayed the conversation he had had with Castiel about the janitor's protege, the day he had first set eyes on that adorable guy.

Castiel had explained the unfortunate situation to Sam, and when he had impressed on Sam the awful violation that had been committed against the poor doctor, Castiel's attitude had turned from righteous anger to sorrowful benevolence.

"I also fear the poor child has wrecked his bi-cycle," he murmured sadly.

"His bicycle?" Sam queried, confused. "Oh, you mean his biorhythm, right? You think his rhythm is screwed?"

"Yes," Castiel confirmed. "He's been popping pills and chugging alcohol for so many years. I know that sort of behaviour will most surely bust one's bi-cycle."

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, well, that's not the most important thing, Cas. If I can help, I'll settle for whatever's left of him."

"Fine," Castiel said, with a relieved smile. "Just don't think you can ingratiate yourself with the Syndicate by 'popping a puppy', that's all."

Sam laughed. "Not what I'm in this for, Cas," he assured him. "Sure I wanna make the Syndicate happy. And maybe that's why I flew out here. But HE's what matters to me now, not the Syndicate."

Castiel nodded sagely. "That's the right attitude," he said approvingly. "The child deserves no less."

Sam could tell that Castiel cared one hell of a lot about Dean. He felt sorry for him. Castiel was a zero and his evident love for the handsome doctor was hopeless and forbidden.

It was particularly sad that Castiel was 'different' because the Syndicate he kowtowed to was very down on that sort of thing. Ironic, Sam thought, seeing as they were all pretty freaky anyways. They only tolerated Castiel because he made himself useful to them as a runner. Sam was more open-minded.

He knew Castiel had been right. Dean deserved way the hell more than life had thrown at him. He deserved a second chance, and Sam was determined he was going to give it to him.

~0~

They were sitting eating dinner in Il Ristorante Gino, a quiet little Italian family restaurant that had lately become one of Dean's favourite places to eat. He still liked to pretend that he preferred regular American food like cheeseburgers and fries, but he never refused an opportunity to visit Gino's.

Over a couple glasses of a very good Sicilian wine, Sam had turned the conversation to the subject of Dean's ex Lisa.

"So where did you two meet," he asked.

"At Med School. Stayed up nights cramming together," Dean remembered.

"Bet you did," Sam smirked.

"Hey, I was kinduva geek back then," Dean objected. "Pretty much a striver. Mom and Dad kinda drummed it into me."

Sam's face turned serious. "Guess things changed after the fire, huh?"

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Was a freak accident. Mom got trapped by the flames. Dad, ex-marine that he was, had to be a hero, try and save her. They both bought it. Hit me hard. Coulda made it through losing one of them, but both? Came this close to dropping the hell out."

"But you didn't?"

Dean nodded. "Lisa talked me out of it. Said they woulda wanted me to qualify, continue their work, saving people. And then there was Ash."

"Ash?" Sam queried. "So who was Ash?"

"My roomie at college. That guy was into IT before it was cool. And he was mega-smart. But he was also into dope and worse. He got me some stuff. Saw me through the final year. And I qualified. My folks woulda been proud."

"They woulda," Sam agreed. "And that's how it started? The substance abuse?"

"Pretty much."

They ate in silence for a few minutes.

"And what about you?" Dean probed. "How'd you get into the self-help racket?"

Sam chuckled. "Originally? A broken heart. I was a moody-ass teenager, totally in love with this chick, name of Anna." He smiled wistfully.

"Guess that didn't work out, huh?"

Seemed kind of obvious, given Sam's current tastes.

"Could say that," Sam agreed. "I liked to think I was a bad-ass. Mixed with the wrong crowd. She laid it on the line. Told me I was no good, had no respect. Told me to get the hell out."

Dean was interested. "So what did you do?"

"Got the hell out," Sam replied. "Got into petty crime. Then prison. Then Colombia. Then prison again. Did things I'm ashamed of now. Debts I gotta repay. And I got respect, sure enough. The wrong kind."

Sam sighed. "But then I kinda 'saw the light', you could say. Met this old lifer who made me see where I'd gone wrong. How I'd lost my sense of values. So I started to try to help the young guys, the first timers. And when I got out, got into self-help, helping ex-cons like me readjust to regular life. It paid some dues."

Dean was sitting with his mouth open.

"You're an ex-con? Jeez, I thought you were just some bleeding-heart do-gooder," he exclaimed. "What did you do the time for?"

Sam shuffled in his chair uncomfortably and took a sip of his wine.

"Rather not talk about that right now, Dean," he prevaricated. "But, babe, I turned my back on my family for over a decade, so I do know how it feels to be alone in the world."

Dean shook his head. He would have to consider how he felt about this revelation. But somehow he couldn't square it up with the guy in front of him.

"Now that came outta left field," he remarked.

~0~

They finished the meal in silence and then walked home to the penthouse. As they walked slowly along the darkened streets Dean restarted the conversation.

"When were you going to tell me? About your life of crime?" he demanded.

"Waiting for the right moment, dude," Sam explained.

"So it wasn't because you figured I might not give it up if I knew?" Dean suggested mock-accusingly.

Sam sighed. "Was kinda scared you wouldn't take it too well, is all. You're kinda turned inward yourself, Dean. But I get that. Some secrets are best left unsaid."

They had reached Sam's apartment building by then. Sam nodded to the concierge as they stepped into the elevator. He punched 'penthouse' and turned to Dean.

"OK," he said. "No more dancing around. Let's come clean right now. You tell me your darkest secret and I'll tell you mine."

Dean stared at him for a moment, wondering if this was some self-help trick.

Finally, "Deal," he agreed.

"You first," Sam insisted.

"OK." Dean hesitated, glaring at the floor for a moment, as he steeled himself.

"I was... raped."

That stark word seemed to hang in the air like smoke from a gun.

"Alastair, that fucker, he didn't stop at beating the shit outta me. He goddamn raped me. I couldn't... I never told anyone."

Anger and defiance filled his eyes as he stared up at Sam, anxiously trying to gauge his reaction. Sam gave Dean a sweet, understanding smile and a tender hug. Sam had known. Cas had divined it. But Dean had needed to say it himself. Now he could heal. Sam was so proud of him.

"Now you," Dean pushed.

Just before the elevator doors opened, Sam took a deep breath.

"I was an enforcer for a drug lord. I killed people."

TBC

* * *

><p>AN: Well, I suppose you'd worked that one out, but Dean hadn't. More tomorrow.


	7. The Homecoming

Summary: Withdrawn after an assault, pediatrician Dean is visited by handsome therapist Sam, a man with two shocking secrets. AU Sam/Dean slash romance. Warning: implied Alastair/Dean noncon

* * *

><p>Conjugal Glue (Part 7: The Homecoming) by frostygossamer<p>

* * *

><p>Dean followed Sam out of the elevator into the apartment in a state of confusion. Had Sam really said what he had just said? He had been an enforcer, a killer? Sam Singer? That soft-hearted, cuddly teddy bear of a guy who had shown him so much kindness and downright love?<p>

"Nah. Not possible," Dean declared, flopping on the couch.

Sam poured them both a stiff drink and handed Dean a glass. Then he knocked his back in one.

"Totally possible," Sam confirmed. "Gotten myself an FBI file yay thick to prove it."

"OK? Then how come you're not on Death Row right now?" Dean demanded.

"Because I did my time for tax evasion not murder," Sam explained. "Seems I was a whole lot better at disposing of bodies than book-keeping."

Dean gaped at him, his own problem taking a back seat for the moment.

"Should I be quaking in my boots, Sam?" he wanted to know. "You some dangerous fugitive?"

"Hell no," Sam assured him. "Dude, I shot a few rival gang members over mob issues, for pay. I'm not some crazy psycho killer. You're in no danger from me. I honestly turned over a new leaf, put the past behind me, severed all ties with crime for good. I'm a reformed guy. You have my word, babe."

Dean sighed and took a swig of his whiskey. "This is freakin' hard to get my head around, man," he complained.

Sam sat down on the couch beside him.

"Can't expect you to be cool with this right away," he told Dean. "But I'd be crushed if you could never see your way past it, babe. You mean the world to me."

"One helluva bombshell to drop, man," Dean commented.

"Time I was honest with you, Dean," Sam admitted. "There should be no more secrets between us. It's the only way forward."

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Guess so," he agreed.

He put down his glass and stood up. Questions could wait till tomorrow.

"Gonna hit the hay. See how I feel about all this in the morning."

"I'll sleep on the couch," Sam suggested.

"Dude, you sleep on that couch and I NEVER forgive you," Dean retorted.

Getting over a shock like this about Sam was more than Dean could manage alone. And putting a name to what had been done to him had left Dean feeling a little fragile. He didn't want to feel fragile. He wanted to feel loved.

And whatever the guy had been in the past, Dean was damn sure that Sam loved him. He reckoned perhaps that ought to be enough.

~0~

Over breakfast the next morning, Dean had a few questions, as he toyed with his Eggs Florentine.

"So you were a bad-ass gangster, and now you're a healer. Some transformation, huh? Got religion?"

"Not exactly," Sam answered. "I'm just doing what I can to repay my debts. Get back on the credit side of the account. I figured saving a few delinquent kids, helping other ex-cons like me, would be a good way to start."

"And has your lady love been impressed by the make-over?" Dean asked leadingly.

"Anna? This is so not about Anna. Haven't seen her since she dumped me," Sam told him. "Haven't even seen my own folks in years. But I'm kinda hopeful that someday soon they'll be able to take me back. I was a dumb-ass to walk out on them."

Dean nodded sadly. "Wish I could get with my folks again. Miss them a whole lot."

Sam patted his hand sympathetically.

"Yeah, Dean, know I'm lucky that my guys are still around. But can't just turn up on their doorstep and say 'Hi, I'm home'. Gotta prove myself first. Gotta earn their forgiveness."

"And how you gonna do that?" Dean asked.

Sam leaned over the table and pecked him on the forehead.

"Working on it," he replied, meaningfully.

Dean shook his head and went back to stuffing down his eggs.

"You know I oughta be cussing you out over this, Sam Singer," he said, between mouthfuls. "But I'm gonna have to trust you. Gotta trust you really mean it about finding salvation, or whatever. Cos if you're BS-ing me, may as well walk away right now. And there's no way I'm goin' anyplace. You're all that's keeping me together, Sam."

"Babe, I swear, if I hadn't cleaned up my act already, I would for you," Sam promised. "Not gonna let you down."

Dean just prayed he meant it.

~0~

One evening a few weeks later, Sam greeted Dean in the hospital parking lot, with a look of childlike excitement on his face.

"Been talking to Cas," he told Dean, as the doctor got into Sam's car for the drive home.

"Yeah?" Dean asked. "Funny but I haven't seen him in a few days."

"Took some personal time," Sam explained. "Cas told me he's been working on tracing your family tree."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "He's been what?" Dean demanded. "Did I ask him to do that? Hell no. Where does he get off with that?"

"Hey, don't bitch about it," Sam retorted. "He's great with that sorta thing. He may turn up something interesting."

"Not sure I want him to turn up something interesting," Dean muttered darkly.

"And," Sam went on, ignoring the huff, "he's been talking with my Pop. Pop knows a thing or two about bloodlines and such crap."

"Really?" Dean remarked grumpily.

"The point is, Pop says he's open to me coming home for a visit. He'd like to meet with you too."

Sam's joy was written all over his face.

Dean frowned doubtfully. "Not sure I'm ready to meet the parents, Sam. Could be a mistake."

Sam grinned. "Sure you are. It'll do you good. Just wait till you've tasted Mom's Pecan Peach Pie, then tell me it's a mistake."

~0~

That weekend saw them driving to South Dakota to meet the Singers. Dean wasn't exactly in a good mood, feeling pushed into something he wasn't really ready for. It wasn't so long ago that he had decided to give this relationship with Sam a try, and he didn't yet feel sure enough about it to be held up for the approval of Sam's family.

Sam had been altogether too enthusiastic about this whole thing. So, OK, Sam was keen to come running the moment his folks started waving a white flag, but did he have to drag Dean along with him?

Dean was asleep in the shotgun seat of Sam's car, when he finally pulled up outside the rambling Singer mansion. Dean opened his drowsy eyes and blinked.

"Who the hell are these people? The Munsters?" he murmured, as he crawled out of the car and stretched.

A twinkly-eyed, middle-aged guy, sporting a tawny beard, stood on the front stoop smiling warmly. He held out his arms as Sam approached him.

"Welcome home, son," he greeted Sam, the faintest hint of a sob in his voice. "Been such a long time, boy."

Sam threw his arms around the older guy and hugged him tightly for several long minutes. Finally he released him so he could breathe.

"Pop, it's been way too long," Sam gasped, tearing up. "I was kinda scared it was maybe... too late."

"Never too late," his Pop assured him tearfully. "Just glad ya finally made it, ya idjit."

Sam and his Pop laughed together happily, before Sam tore himself away to introduce his companion. Dean had been standing there watching this emotional reunion with an empty, disassociated feeling inside.

"Pop. This is Dean," Sam introduced him. "Dr. Dean Winchester, my personal project."

Dean was glad Sam hadn't used the word 'partner'. He was so not ready for that yet. Even 'boyfriend' would have seemed too strong. He wondered vaguely if Sam's folks even knew their son was gay.

"Hi, Dean sonny," Sam's Pop greeted him, with a grin. "Very pleased to meet ya. Just you call me Bobby. OK?"

"Hi, Bobby," Dean responded politely.

Dean extended his hand but, instead of shaking it, Bobby grabbed it with both hands and began rubbing it vigorously.

"Sonny, you got one cold mitt there," he exclaimed. "My idjit son forget to put the heat on in the car, huh?" and he pulled Dean into the house.

~0~

"Your Mom's where you'd expect, in the kitchen, Sam," Bobby called to Sam over his shoulder, then to Dean, "Gonna take you on into the library, Dean sonny, let the boy have a moment alone with his Mom."

Sam disappeared into the back of the house, while Bobby seated Dean in a big leather armchair in his library.

"What you're needin' is a taste of my best single malt. Soon warm you up," he declared.

Dean accepted a glass from his outstretched hand and took a sip. It hit the spot. Dean sighed and sank back into his chair.

"Now that's what I call whiskey," he pronounced appreciatively.

Bobby chuckled and sat himself down facing him.

"Sam's Mom's been in that dang kitchen all morning," he said. "Karen's been nervous as hell about seeing her boy again. There were times, ya know, when we reckoned he'd given up on his folks for good. Broke her heart."

Dean nodded. "Family is important," he agreed sagely. "Family oughta stick together. I only wish..."

Bobby leaned forward and patted his knee gently.

"I know, sonny. Cas told me 'bout your Mom and Dad, Dean. But you're not alone now, remember that."

~0~

Sam paused a moment in the kitchen doorway to watch his Mom busying about her cooking. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed this beautiful domestic scene.

"Mom," he whispered.

His Mom shrieked and dropped a hot dish onto the table.

"Oh Sam," she gasped. "You're here already. Oh sweetheart."

She ran over to Sam, who enveloped the slim woman in his arms.

"Mom, I have missed you so much," he murmured in her ear.

"Same here, Sammy," she replied.

They hugged in silence for a few minutes before letting each other go. His Mom dusted off the flour that she had transferred to Sam's clothes.

"Sam, you have gotten so BIG," she gasped through her tears. "Your Dad will be impressed to see you looking so... grown-up."

"Will he?" Sam asked doubtfully.

"Uh-huh," she insisted. "He's not some ogre, Sam. Not anymore."

~0~

When Sam joined Bobby and Dean in the library, Bobby was telling Dean some embarrassing story about Sam's childhood. Sam thought it was a good moment to cut in.

"Mom has been baking up a storm out there," he chuckled. "Dean, you're gonna be blown away when you taste her pie, fresh from the oven."

"Hell, yeah," Bobby agreed. "Karen has won prizes for her pies, sonny. You gonna believe you died and gone to heaven."

Sam grinned in agreement. "Sure will. OK, Pop, I'm gonna take Dean and get him settled in his room."

Bobby nodded. "Right next door to your old room, son."

"You kept my old room?" Sam asked, a little choked.

"Sure we did, Sam," Bobby affirmed. "Always hoped you'd be back some day, son. Never gave up."

Dean noticed Sam biting his lip as he guided him upstairs to find his room.

"It's a big thing, right?" he commented. "It's one goddamn big thing, coming home."

Sam nodded. "Goddamn awesome," he breathed.

TBC

* * *

><p>AN: Clues are there. Answers on a postcard. More tomorrow.


	8. The Billionaire

Summary: Withdrawn after an assault, pediatrician Dean is visited by handsome therapist Sam, a man with two shocking secrets. AU Sam/Dean slash romance. Warning: implied Alastair/Dean noncon

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><p>AN: About halfway now, but there's still a lot more to this story. Stay tuned.

* * *

><p>Conjugal Glue (Part 8: The Billionaire) by frostygossamer<p>

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><p>Dinner with the Singers was a thing to behold. Dean couldn't remember enjoying a family meal quite so much since he was a kid, when his Dad had burned steaks and sausages on the barbecue for his Mom and the neighbours, long, long ago.<p>

Bobby and Karen Singer were such a fun couple they made Dean feel right at home, as they exchanged family stories and anecdotes across the dinner table. As Sam had promised, Karen's Pecan Peach Pie had been the piece de resistance. Dean really did think he was in heaven.

After dinner Dean, as a dutiful guest, offered to help Karen with washing the dishes, while Sam and his Pop talked old times in the library.

Dean noticed that Karen had prepared and put aside an extra tray of food.

"Expecting to be hungry later?" he asked, unable to believe anyone wouldn't be totally stuffed after the great meal.

"That's for Fergus," Karen replied. "He'll be getting here very late and he won't have had a chance to grab dinner, poor dear. He usually spends weeknights in town, only he wanted very much to meet you, Dean."

"Fergus?" Dean queried. "Sam has a brother?"

"Oh no, sweetie," Karen chuckled sweetly. "Fergus is Sam's Dad."

"Ah," Dean responded.

He had obviously been a little dumb. If this Fergus was Sam's father then who was Bobby? Maybe Sam's step-dad?

~0~

When the dishes were done, Dean decided to slip off to bed before anyone else, so the family reunion could continue in peace. As he passed the library door he overheard Sam and his Pop in conversation.

"Glad to see you finally straightened yourself out and found yourself one of your own, boy," Bobby chuckled. "He's so damn ready."

Sam laughed. "Jeez, Pop, don't let him hear you call him that," he objected. "He wouldn't think it was... appropriate."

"Damn true though. Been right there," Bobby quipped in response. "You know your old Pop was a stone fox in his day."

"So I've heard," Sam replied, amused. "Mostly from you, Pop."

Dean shook that thought out of his head and continued upstairs.

~0~

Dean had had an interesting day. He was slightly squiffy and ready for sleep. He had a quick shower in his en suite bathroom and got into his night things.

Just as he was about to turn out the light, he heard a car draw up in front of the mansion. He jumped out of bed and peered out the window. There was a black '26 Bentley parked next to Sam's car. As he watched, a short, dark-haired and besuited guy got out and walked in the house.

"Fergus?," Dean wondered.

Somehow this guy didn't look like he had ever belonged with the down-home Karen.

"Well, I guess that's how come Karen's with Bobby now," Dean speculated.

He went back to bed, switched off the light and fell right asleep.

About an hour later, his bedroom door opened softly and Sam sneaked in. He quickly slipped out of his clothes and slid into bed with Dean, wrapping his body around Dean's sleeping form. Dean, who had only been sleeping lightly, woke up and turned around in Sam's arms to face him.

"Guess 'Fergus' got here OK," he remarked.

Sam hesitated a second before replying.

"Uh-huh," he said. "He had some business to finish up at the office. We, uh, needed to do a little catching up. He'll wanna meet with you in the morning."

"And this guy is?" Dean asked, still confused about who's who.

"My Dad," Sam answered automatically, like that should have been obvious.

"Uh, so Bobby's not your real Dad?" Dean asked. "He your step-dad or something?"

Sam chuckled. "Bobby's my Pop, Dean. My REAL Pop. He's 'step' nothing. He wouldn't like to hear that from another zero."

Dean was confused. He pulled away from Sam and sat up.

"OK. So am I being particularly dumb, or does that not make sense?" he said.

"We're Deltaics, Dean," Sam replied. "I explained that to you. Didn't I?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Clearly not in a way that enlightened me any," he complained.

"Ah," Sam responded. "Don't get it? Jeez, guess I'd better explain it better, huh?"

But Dean wasn't in the mood for a long lecture on some self-help theory or whatever, so he stopped Sam there.

"This Deltaic thing some kinda weird-ass cult?" he demanded.

"No, Dean," Sam laughed. "Not a cult..."

"Then I don't need to hear it right now," Dean cut in. "Need me some beauty sleep. OK?"

"OK, babe," Sam agreed, pulling Dean back into his arms. "We'll talk about this tomorrow."

Dean really didn't think he needed to know that his ex-triggerman lover's folks were into some spaced-out, new-age, free-love crap. Not tonight.

Sam hoped that Dean would figure out everything way more easily once he had met all the family.

~0~

When Sam and Dean came down to breakfast the next morning, Bobby was sitting at one end of the table tucking into a high-calorie breakfast. At the other end of the table was a veritable wall of newspaper. Karen was distributing food from a central position, like a Las Vegas croupiere. Two places were set across from her for Sam and Dean.

"Morning, Mom," Sam said, sitting down and helping himself to chocolate-chip pancakes and bacon.

Dean plonked down in the seat beside him and poured himself a black coffee.

"Morning, dears," Karen sang cheerily.

Bobby deliberately put down his knife and fork.

"It's a damn fine morning, son", he told Sam. "And ifn your idjit Dad would tear his eyes off of those business rags of his for one moment, I'm sure he could be civil enough to wish you both 'Morning' too," he admonished.

Fergus peered past the edge of his Wall Street Journal and smirked.

"Actually, Bobby, technically I HAVE spoken with Sam already this morning," he pointed out. "But I WAS neglecting to greet our guest, Dr. Winchester," and he turned to Dean, "Good morning, Dean. Trust you slept well?"

"Very well, thank you, Mr...?" Dean responded.

"Singer. We're all Singers here, isn't that right, Bobby?" Fergus answered, in a sarcastic tone.

Bobby nodded. "Yeah, that's right. We're all Singers," he agreed emphatically, beaming fondly at his son.

Dean noticed Fergus shoot Sam an odd look before reaching for another slice of toast, and disappearing behind his newspaper again. Sam shook his head incredulously.

"You gotta forgive my Dad," Sam whispered to Dean. "He can be a little cranky in the mornings."

Fergus shook his newspaper and grumbled at that comment.

~0~

After breakfast, Fergus squirreled himself away in his study to take an international business call. Sam took Dean out into the extensive backyard to look at Karen's rose garden and get some fresh air.

"Sorry 'bout Dad, Dean," Sam began. "His bark is kinda worse than his bite. He's a little tetchy because Pop bawled him out last night, about us all being one family, and how Pop and Mom outvoted him anyways."

"Outvoted him?" Dean queried.

"About taking me back. About letting go of the past. Goes against Dad's business instincts to write off old debts," Sam explained.

Dean sympathized, "That's tough."

"Well, he backed down, for now," Sam chuckled. "Pop generally gets his way around here. They have an understanding. Dad and Pop kiss on a deal, and then Pop breaks it."

Sam glanced back toward the house.

"Looks like he's gotten off of the phone. Maybe it's a good time for you and Dad to get acquainted."

Sam and Dean walked back in the house and Sam shoved Dean into the study, shutting the doors behind him and leaving him stranded with the mysterious and formidable Fergus.

Fergus glanced up from his desk.

"Dr. Winchester," he drawled. "I've heard so much about you and your good works at Welby Memorial Hospital."

"Oh really?" Dean responded. "Heard zilch about you so far."

Fergus chuckled. "Have you heard of the name 'Crowley'?" he asked.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Crowley as in Crowley International?"

Fergus nodded. "Yours truly," he answered.

Dean whistled softly. "Gotta be worth billions."

"Conservatively," Fergus agreed. "Some might say rich as Hades. And so you realize I have a reputation to preserve. It's important to me that nothing crooked is associated with the family business. Nothing bent."

"Nothing crooked about me," Dean insisted.

Fergus smiled wryly, "I'm talking about my son, Sam. You know his history?"

"Now I do," Dean admitted. "But he swore to me that his criminal past is just that, his past."

"Let's hope so," Fergus remarked, steepling his fingers. "But you can't blame me for being cautious. I, as a prominent, er, businessman in our little community, am naturally wary. We can't all be trusting souls like my dear Bobby, can we? I'm sure you'd agree."

"I think... I believe Sam is totally sincere about straightening out," Dean asserted. "I trust him. Otherwise I wouldn't be..."

"...with him? I'm sure," Fergus agreed with a grin.

Dean wondered if Fergus knew that he and Sam had a thing going on. Did his Dad know he was gay?

Fergus stood up and walked around his desk toward Dean. He perched on the desk and folded his arms.

"You're a righteous man, Dean. And I will admit that my son's relationship with you has given me some hope for him. Perhaps he is redeemable after all."

"Believe it," Dean insisted loyally.

Fergus nodded. "Let's hope you're right."

At that moment their conversation was interrupted by a commotion in the entrance hallway, as a couple of new visitors arrived.

TBC

* * *

><p>AN: Yes, Fergus IS who you think he is. More tomorrow.


	9. The Old Flame

Summary: Withdrawn after an assault, pediatrician Dean is visited by handsome therapist Sam, a man with two shocking secrets. AU Sam/Dean slash romance. Warning: implied Alastair/Dean noncon

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><p>AN: In case anyone was wondering: No, Fergus isn't a demon in this. There are no demons. It's not that sort of AU.

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><p>Conjugal Glue (Part 9: The Old Flame) by frostygossamer<p>

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><p>Dean recognised Castiel the moment he stepped into the house. Castiel spotted him across the hall and hurried over, a gentle smile lighting up his face.<p>

"Dean, I am so happy to see you," he said, grabbing Dean's hand in both of his and squeezing it.

Dean smiled, slightly surprised. "Didn't know you were coming, Cas. Sam didn't say."

"My cousin, Anna Seraphos, needed a ride," Castiel explained, glancing over his shoulder at the stunning redhead standing in the doorway.

"Anna," Dean repeated absently. She was a knock-out.

The slim, elegant, auburn-tressed Anna leaned in against Sam and laughed a tinkling laugh at some unheard shared joke. This was Anna, Sam's first love. The way they touched each other, there was evidently still something there between them.

Dean felt a stupid pang of jealousy. There was no reason for it. It wasn't like he and Sam were official or anything.

"Didn't know you were related to Sam's old flame," Dean said.

Castiel smiled. "We are first cousins, Dean. In fact, the Seraphoses and the Singers are all distant cousins. 'Singer' is merely 'Seraphos' Americanized."

"Ah," Dean responded. What were these people? Some kind of Cosa Nostra?

Sam glanced toward Dean and whispered something in Anna's ear. She stalked over and pecked Dean on the cheek.

"And you must be Dr. Winchester," she said, running her beautiful hazel eyes over him appraisingly. "May I call you Dean?"

"Call me anything you want, baby," Dean responded, his old technique kicking in automatically.

Anna gave a feminine giggle. "Sam said you were a charmer, Dean."

~0~

Bobby led them all into his library where they conversed for a while about Anna's work as a divorce lawyer for a big international firm, Dean's work at the hospital and Sam's therapy practice. Fergus hovered in the background, listening but taking no part in the discussion.

Bobby pointed out that it was interesting how very different their professions were and yet how much they had in common, nonetheless. They all wanted to help people. Dean caught Sam and Anna exchanging a few discreet little smiles, which niggled him for some reason.

"I've gotten disheartened with the concept of regular American marriage," Anna declared. "I see all sorts of problems day to day. People get married for all the wrong reasons and they see divorce as an easy solution."

"Divorce is never easy," Dean put in sadly, thinking about Lisa.

"True, it's never as easy as people expect," Anna agreed. "But couples often give up too soon. I see too much of that."

"Young people nowadays don't understand commitment," Karen contributed. "They got no conjugal glue to hold them together."

"Not everyone is as lucky as you guys, Mom," Sam commented. "Sometimes things don't turn out the way they hoped," and he glanced at Dean.

Dean sighed. "Never woulda gotten divorced if Lisa hadn't wanted it. But can't blame her. Wasn't much of a husband."

"Well, no shit, sonny," Bobby chuckled. "Guess sometimes better to just wipe the slate clean and start again, huh?"

"IF I ever decide to marry," Anna said, looking at Sam. "I would want to be sure of commitment up front, the way traditional marriage used to be, nothing less."

Sam nodded. "That's my thinking too," he agreed, glaring pointedly at Fergus.

Dean glanced from Sam to Anna and saw a look pass between them that he just didn't get. It worried him, even annoyed him a little.

~0~

Anna and Castiel were invited to stay for dinner.

Before dinner, Bobby announced that he was going to take Sam up to the local cemetery, to pay his overdue respects to his grandparents, something for the immediate family. Dean was left alone in the house with Anna and Castiel. At least, Castiel was supposed to be around someplace, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Anna decided to plunder Bobby's supply of old malt.

"I know where Bobby keeps his extra-special cache, the stuff you have to know God personally to get hold of," she told Dean.

She squealed in triumph as she pulled the bottle out from a space behind a bookcase, and she poured them both a shot. Relaxing on the sumptuous leather couch, she patted the space beside her.

"Come sit with me, Dean darling," she said, with a sexy smile.

Dean sat down beside her and she scooched a mite closer.

Anna was a very attractive woman. Her long, titian-red tresses, swept into a neat, businesslike French pleat, framed her alabaster skin. Her hazel eyes were deep and lustrous. She drank her liquor and smiled.

"You're a damned attractive guy, Dean Winchester," she whispered.

"Not so skanky yourself," he replied, with a practiced smirk.

She chuckled flirtatiously. Taking the glass from his hand, she placed both glasses on the side table and turned back to stare deep into his eyes.

"You've been through hell, Dean, I know that," she whispered. "I think you've earned a little happiness."

Then she leaned forward and her lips met his. She tasted of expensive lipstick and whiskey. Dean found himself pressing her back against the couch, one hand behind her slim neck, one on her waist. She sighed into the kiss, and he deepened it without thinking.

After several moments they broke apart. Anna laughed prettily and loosened her long, shiny locks, shaking her head. They fell across the back of the couch in copper waves. Dean thought he had probably never seen a more beautiful woman. A strange tingle ran down his spine. He wanted her badly.

"Take me to your room," she breathed.

Dean inhaled uncertainly. "Sam..." But he was angry with Sam, right?

Anna placed a manicured fingertip on his lips and whispered, "Don't think."

She took his hand and led him upstairs to his room. Once Dean was inside she locked the door.

"There," she chuckled. "Now we won't be interrupted."

~0~

When Dean awoke an hour later, he didn't know where he was at first. For a moment he couldn't understand why the presence in bed with him was small and delicate and definitely female.

"Crap," he swore.

He and Anna had fallen asleep in each other's arms after a sexual encounter that had reminded Dean pretty forcefully that he was really into the fair sex.

"Oh hell. It sounds like the family is back already," Anna muttered beside him.

"Crap," Dean repeated, jumping out of bed.

Anna laughed. "It's OK, Dean," she chuckled. "They're not going to throw you out for fraternizing with the other guests, darling."

Dean picked up Anna's dress from the floor and threw it at her.

"Somehow I figure the Singers might reckon this is kinda stretching their hospitality," he pointed out.

They dressed quickly and hurried downstairs to join the others in the parlour. Anna went straight to Sam.

"How were things at the necropolis, Sam darling?" she asked sympathetically.

"Byzantine," he replied, archly. "You two manage to keep yourselves amused?"

Anna twinkled. "Oh, we had fun, Sam," she replied.

"Kinda fast there, girl?" he murmured, in mild reproof.

Sam shook his head then went to talk to Bobby, who had just reappeared with Castiel. Dean hurried over to join the redhead.

"Anna, say you didn't tell him," he pleaded.

Anna smiled. "It's OK, Dean," she assured him. "He knows already."

Dean's eyes widened. "Never took you for a bitch, lady," he snapped.

A faint hint of confusion clouded Anna's delicate features for a second.

"Dean darling, I thought you were up for this. Sam said we should get acquainted... Damn that silly man. Perhaps I WAS a little forward, but it was just a bit of fun."

Dean scowled in consternation. Anna glanced at Sam and caught his eye. Sam stepped back toward her, a sugary smile on his face.

"Sam darling, everything is fine, isn't that right?" she asked. "That was the idea? You asked me here so that Dean and I could get to... know each other?"

Sam nodded. "It's cool, Dean," he assured him softly.

He made to touch Dean's cheek affectionately, but Dean ducked away from his touch. Anna turned back to Dean.

"You see, darling. We're all together now. Aren't we, Sam? It's the Deltaic way, Dean. Even the Syndicate would approve."

Dean grunted in disgust. He glared at Sam, whose stupid, smiling face suddenly looked like it needed a punch so bad that he gave it one.

Sam recoiled, staggering backward a step, his hand going straight to his nose. It was already starting to bleed.

"Dean! Babe?" he gasped in shock.

"Bitch-ass!" Dean retorted.

He strode across the room and grabbed Castiel by the elbow, dragging him into a corner.

"You're driving me back to town. NOW!" he demanded.

Castiel's blue eyes popped in bewilderment. "You want to leave, Dean?" he asked.

"Sure I wanna leave, doofus," Dean snapped. "These people are all nuts. Go get your car. I'll meet you outside in ten."

Castiel hurried away, muttering to himself. Dean ran back upstairs and angrily threw his stuff into his duffel. He was full of hell. What were these guys playing at with their new-agey, flower-power, open-relationship crap? What did they think he was, some kind of plaything for them to pass around? That was all he was to Sam?

He stamped downstairs and straight out the door, where Castiel was waiting in the driver's seat of his little, beat-up automobile. Dean jumped in the passenger seat.

"Drive!" he commanded.

Castiel obediently put his foot down and they sped away. Dean didn't see Sam run out onto the front steps of the mansion, just in time to glimpse the rear of the car disappearing. Nor did he see Anna take his arm and lead him back inside.

~0~

Castiel drove Dean to the nearby town. During the short journey Dean refused to speak or listen. Dean made Castiel stop at the town taxicab company, and sent him back to the Singers without a word. He didn't want to leave Anna stranded without her ride. That would have been cold. He took a cab the rest of the way back to his own grim little apartment and let himself in.

The place was even colder and drearier than it had been when he had seen it last. He locked the door and flopped down on the couch, dejected. If he'd been a woman he would probably have cried. He didn't know whether he was more angry or disappointed. What was it about him that made people want to use him that way? Did he really deserve it? Was that all he was worth? After all, he was only damaged goods.

He had been home less than ten minutes when his cellphone rang. The display said 'Sam'. Dean ignored it and the call went to voicemail, again and again. He switched his cell off, and dropped it on his coffee table. Almost immediately his landline began to ring. He got up and disconnected it from the wall socket, then went and crumpled onto his bed.

TBC

* * *

><p>AN: Poor Dean. What are these people playing at? (Any guesses?) And just when everything seemed so perfect. More tomorrow.


	10. The Facts Of Life

Summary: Withdrawn after an assault, pediatrician Dean is visited by handsome therapist Sam, a man with two shocking secrets. AU Sam/Dean slash romance. Warning: implied Alastair/Dean noncon

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><p>AN: Finally all becomes clear...

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><p>Conjugal Glue (Part 10: The Facts Of Life) by frostygossamer<p>

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><p>Dean went back to work. The day to day routine at Welby Memorial was comfortingly familiar. He got a new cellphone, and told the hospital clerks to quit taking messages for him that he wasn't going to read. He spend long, busy hours just doing his job, and went back to his lonely apartment only to sleep.<p>

Sam stopped calling. On the odd occasions when Dean spotted Castiel, the janitor quickly made himself scarce.

The tingle faded and died. Weeks and months passed. Dean coped.

"Guess what don't kill me makes me stronger, or some crap," he thought.

Sometimes he also thought about Lisa. He wondered how she was doing. Did she have the baby? Was it a boy or a girl? Was she happy?

Because he sure as hell wasn't.

Nurse Carmen was very sweet. She seemed to be a little disappointed when she realized Sam Singer wasn't coming back any more, but she didn't press Dean as to why. He took her to dinner a couple times. Someplace with good old plain American food, nothing French or Italian.

He let her take him home to her place once. And it was pretty much the same as it always used to be... meaningless.

~0~

It was spring before Anna turned up at the hospital.

Dean was going about his rounds in the usual way, when he spotted her sitting patiently, in the little alcove reserved for visitors beside the hot drinks machine. He considered ignoring her completely, but the moment she saw him she smiled uncertainly and rose carefully to her feet. He immediately saw why. He led her into an empty private room, where she perched on the empty bed.

"You're pregnant, isn't that right?" he demanded brusquely. "Don't try to tell me you're carrying MY baby."

"Yes, Dean," Anna replied calmly. "This baby IS yours."

Dean shook his head, unable to believe it.

"Can't be mine. I'm sterile." he stated, bitterly. "Always have been. My ex, Lisa, could never forgive me for that."

"You're not sterile, Dean," Anna insisted, then she took his hand and looked straight at him. "You're a zemale. There's quite a difference."

"What are you talking about, Anna?" Dean demanded. "That some of the Deltaic psychology crap Sam Singer used to spout?"

Anna sighed. "It's not 'crap', Dean. And it's not psychology. It's biology. You're a zemale, I'm a female and Sam's a hemale. Together we make the full set. Together we can make a baby. And we did."

"Whaddya mean 'together'? Don't get it," Dean complained, bewildered.

Anna touched his face gently. Dean couldn't help but lean into the touch.

"I suppose I'm going to have to give you 'The Talk'," she said. "I really think Sam should have explained all this properly."

"'The Talk'? Crap! I'm not some kid," Dean snorted. "I do KNOW how babies get made."

"Dean," Anna whispered. "It seems you don't know how THIS baby got made. Just sit down and listen."

Dean reluctantly flopped down on the bed beside the lovely redhead.

"Dean, we're all Deltaics," Anna began. "The Seraphoses and our cousins the Singers, and YOU, evidently. We Deltaics migrated to the US from a tiny in-bred Greek island more than a century ago. We're kind of special. We have three genders."

Dean laughed. "Three genders? Oh sure. Straight outta freakin' Star Trek."

Anna shook her head. "Sam tried to tell you about it, but the big baby was scared you wouldn't accept it." She sighed. "We're not going to get anywhere if you can't trust that I'm telling you the truth."

"OK," Dean allowed. He couldn't stay angry with her, in her condition. "Suppose I believe you. How does it work, this three sex thing? Answer me that, huh?"

Anna shrugged. "It's pretty easy, Dean. Three sexes: hemale, zemale and female or plus, zero and minus. Sam Singer is a hemale, a regular macho guy, pretty much. I'm a female, which is how come I'm the one lugging this sweet little bump around with me right now. And you, my darling, are a zemale, the INTERMEDIARY sex."

"I'm a... WHAT?" Dean hissed, sensing an affront to his machismo.

"Let me explain this in words of one syllable," Anna continued patiently. "Sam bangs you. You bang me. I make baby. Simple math."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Lady, that dog don't hunt. You're talking freakin' sci-fi here."

Anna laughed playfully. "Sweetheart, you want to talk science? You've had the fertility tests? You already know you don't make regular sperm, right? That's because you make 'metasperm'."

Metasperm? Dean frowned. He remembered how his heart had sunk, as he watched his little misshapen guys wallowing around on the specialist's microscope slide, with no sense of direction.

"My homeboys are meant to be that way?" he asked, amazed.

"Mhm darling," Anna confirmed. "They fuse with regular sperm and add your own genetic markers. You can fertilise an ovum if you've been with a hemale in the last three or four days. Trust me. We've been doing it this way for generations."

Dean was dazed. This sounded like total hokum but...

"So this baby... It's mine? Sam's and yours AND mine? That what you're saying?"

"That's it," Anna agreed, smiling warmly. "Now isn't that cosy, darling?"

Dean pondered. Actually this explained a lot. It explained Sam's cockamamie family. It totally explained why Sam had seemed to push him and Anna together, and why he had been so damned cool about it afterward.

Sam had wanted to make a baby with Anna and had USED him to do it. The scumbag!

He stared at the floor for a while, marshaling his temper, then he sighed, defeated.

"What I don't see, Anna, is why you needed me for this. Why not just get it on together? Wouldn't that get the job done? Why the hell drag me in at all?"

Anna's expression became tender, and she patted Dean's hand.

"Oh Dean, of course we COULD have done this without you. But Sam is in love with YOU. He wanted to make a baby with YOU. I'm just what we call a 'third angle', the extra body that brings it all together."

Dean had the sudden feeling that he might have misjudged Sam completely.

"So Sam loves me?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound too pathetic.

Anna beamed at him. "Of course he does, darling," she said. "He's crazy about you. And I'm so sorry that I messed it up between you two."

Dean felt a tiny flame of hope ignite in his heart. Sam loved him.

"So you came here today just to tell me all this?" he asked.

"Well, no, actually I had hoped you would've worked it all out on your own by now," Anna admitted. "I came here to ask you to help me get Sam back here in time for the birth. I've sent the guy a couple of messages via cousin Cas' famous grapevine already, but the stubborn boy refuses to acknowledge them. He's brooding someplace down in Colombia, apparently."

"That jack-ass," Dean interjected. Colombia was a part of Sam's criminal past. Colombia didn't sound good.

"I can't blame him, Dean," Anna continued, apologetically. "When Sam ran away the first time, he wanted so much for me to beg him to come home that I guess he figures it's my turn to be ignored."

Her eyes took on a pleading look. "I think he'll only come home if he believes YOU want him back. Send him a message, Dean. Tell him you need him. Tell him you forgive him."

Dean considered. "I don't know if I forgive him," he said. "He set me up."

"Yes, well," Anna agreed. "You may find he's misled you about a great many things. But if you can get him to come home, you can have it out face to face at least."

Dean nodded. "I'll think about it," he allowed. "In the meantime, I'm right here if you need help with the baby. I'm not angry with you, Anna. And I'm no deadbeat."

Anna smiled and hugged him before slowly standing up.

"I know you're not, Dean darling," she said, sounding relieved. "You're a zemale. You care. I'll keep in touch."

Then she kissed Dean and left.

Dean realized that he had misjudged Anna too. She had the abrasive manner of a career businesswoman, but deep down she was vulnerable and lonely like him. He was going to take good care of her through this.

~0~

"Conjugal glue? What the hell even is that?" Dean demanded, as he sat in a bar with Bobby Singer.

Bobby put down his beer glass and chuckled. "You wanna know, huh?"

Dean sighed. "It's Anna. She's pregnant. And..."

Bobby cut him off. "You three're having a baby? Hell's bells, that's goddamn amazin'! Wait till I tell Karen she's gonna be a grandmom. And Fergus, bless him, he makes like a hard-ass but he's gonna be stoked."

Dean was a little relieved that Bobby was obviously up to speed with the situation between the three of them. No need for awkward explanations.

"So you see," Dean continued. "Anna wants me to get Sam home."

Bobby grinned. "Well, sure she does. But, wait, I guess you're not so sure, huh?"

Dean shook his head. Bobby finished his beer and leaned back in his chair, assessing him.

"You miss my boy?" he asked.

Dean twisted his face. "Yeah, I guess," he admitted.

"Well, there you go," Bobby pronounced. "Sounds simple enough to me."

"I just... I just need to know what I'm letting myself in for," Dean explained, uncertainly. "This Deltaic thing. Just what are they gonna expect from me? What the hell is this conjugal glue crap anyways?"

Bobby grinned. "It's you, sonny," he said. "You're the glue that's gonna hold this thing of yours together."

"Me?" Dean responded. "They want ME to hold it together? Not sure I can hold myself together, man."

"Yeah, YOU, Dean," Bobby confirmed. "You really think my Karen and Fergus woulda gotten together by themselves? Hell no. Me and Karen were an item long before Fergus came along. He's our 'third angle'. We had an arrangement and that arrangement got us Sam. Now we're family and we've stuck together. And I've had to work damn hard to do it. That's what Sam and Anna are gonna need from you."

"Not sure that I'm up to it," Dean commented.

"Sure you are," Bobby insisted. "You're as tough as buffalo hide, all you been through, come out fightin'. Gonna be a piece of cake, easy as pie."

Dean looked doubtful. "You think?"

"Sure, sonny. And it's gonna be worth it. Gonna wonder how you lived any other way. It'll be a snap."

Bobby smiled avuncularly and patted him on the shoulder.

"Dunno what it is, sonny, but you feel like family already."

TBC

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><p>AN: So now you know. Anybody guess I was going to go sci-fi? There were clues. More tomorrow.


	11. The Babydaddy

Summary: Withdrawn after an assault, pediatrician Dean is visited by handsome therapist Sam, a man with two shocking secrets. AU Sam/Dean slash romance. Warning: implied Alastair/Dean noncon

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><p>Conjugal Glue (Part 11: The Babydaddy) by frostygossamer<p>

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><p>In a dark and sleazy cantina someplace in Colombia, Sam Singer sat at a rickety table dealing a hand of poker to a greasy, middle-aged, latino guy in a filthy bandana. A poorly tuned radio behind the bar played grating tango music, while the cries of shoeless kids, playing soccer in the street with a half-deflated ball, drifted in through the open, broken-shuttered windows.<p>

Sam had been down there for months and had spent almost every day hanging out in this dodgy dive, drinking too much and trying to forget. This was where he belonged, right?

OK, so he'd tried to turn his back on this kind of lawless life. He had tried becoming a worthy member of society. He had tried to clean up his act and straighten out. He had fallen in love, but he'd made a stupid mess of it and lost the only love he'd ever needed. He was a screw-up who might as well vanish never to be heard from again.

The fat, blowsy female, bandana's wife, who ran the bar and kept order, waddled over to the table, bringing another bottle of local hooch together with a piece of printed paper.

"Es un telegrama," she said brusquely, slapping it down on the table with the bottle.

Sam flicked the scrap of paper on the filth-strewn floor and poured himself another shot. The woman grumbled and toed the note with her sandaled foot.

"Not from la senora this time," she commented. "Business maybe?"

Sam hesitated, the shot glass halfway to his lips. He considered for a moment then bent down and retrieved the wire, smoothing it slowly on the table top.

It read,

**_Sam Singer, get your goddamn ass back here yesterday._**  
><strong><em>Our better third is about to pop a puppy stat.<em>**  
><strong><em>If you're not right the hell here to catch it,<em>**  
><strong><em>you can damn well be on the next shuttle to Mars. X<em>**

Sam stared for a long time at that final X. He rubbed it with his thumb in case it was just some dirt on the paper. But, no, it was part of the message. Like the smiley at the end of an email, it meant more than the whole message without it, that kiss.

Sam threw his cards down on the table.

"Lo siento, amigo," he said. "I'm outta the game."

~0~

Anna had been admitted to Maternity. Dean sat by her bedside feeling kind of amazed that he had finally wound up here, after all the failed attempts to get pregnant with poor Lisa, all the years he had believed that he could never be a father.

"I still don't totally get why you went along with all this crap, Anna," he said, "why you let Sam Singer talk you into this."

Anna smiled gently. "Because Sam was my first love, Dean. Despite everything he was still my one-that-got-away. And when he brought you to me it was because he loved you and he wanted me to love you too. And I do, darling. You've been the perfect birth partner these last few months. Don't know what I would have done without you."

Over the last months of Anna's pregnancy, she and Dean had bonded over Lamaze and parenting classes. Anna had turned out to be a real sweet lady with a frosty glaze thanks to her high-powered job. Dean's warm heart had gradually melted that icy coating.

"But a baby, Anna. Why would you do that?" he asked, caressing her cheek. "It's one helluva thing."

Despite being tired, Anna grinned. "Dean, I've always wanted a child, but my career came first. I've been a go-getter, a hotshot, and my life had to come second. Somehow I could never spare the time to be a regular wife and mother. Then Sam came back out of nowhere and offered me this, a traditional Deltaic arrangement with him and the one he loved. How could I refuse? Darling, It's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

She touch his hand on her face. "I just know that together we can be good parents for this baby."

Dean smiled fondly. "I'll do my best," he assured her.

He leaned forward and kissed her on the temple.

~0~

"Breathe, baby," Dean repeated. "Breathe slow and deep."

It was hours later and Sam still hadn't shown. Anna's contractions had started. She squeezed Dean's hand and tried to smile through the pain.

"If I'd known labour was going to be so gosh darned painful I would've found some way to make YOU be the one to give birth, Dean Winchester," she joked darkly.

Dean chuckled. "Still pretty sure THAT's not possible. But, baby, I would do it if I could."

Anna smiled. "I believe you would, Dean darling," she hissed, as another contraction hit her.

"Slow and deep, baby. Remember," Dean reminded her.

A nurse fussed around the expectant mother, preparing her for transfer to the Delivery Room for the birth. Anna smiled at the nurse and then turned an exasperated face back to her lover.

"Where the HELL is that damned MAN?" she demanded. "You definitely spoke to him?"

"Called me from the airport," Dean assured her. "Should be here anytime."

"That bastard had better be right here in the next ten minutes or I'll raise this damned baby as a single mother, and he can sing for visitation," she yelled.

"Anna, you're not gonna be a single mother. You got me, no matter what. Sam is gonna have to earn his place in this family. He knows that," Dean retorted calmly.

Anna nodded and squeezed his hand again. "So glad you're here, Dean," she panted. "You're a lifesaver, darling."

"Just remember to breathe, Anna," Dean repeated. "Just breathe."

A porter arrived and wheeled Anna out into the corridor, en route to the Delivery Room. Dean walked alongside, Anna still gripping his hand. Just as they reached the end of the corridor, Sam suddenly appeared breathing hard and with a look of desperation plastered on his face.

~0~

Sam stood there panting and grinning manically at them.

"Dude, What the hell took you so freakin' long?" Dean demanded.

"Couldn't get a cab. Couldn't get parked. Couldn't find the right floor. Thank God I got here in time," the late arrival gasped.

He grabbed the hand Anna wasn't mashing Dean's with, and bobbed down to kiss her on the forehead.

"Baby, I was so scared I was gonna miss the birth. Forgive me," he pleaded.

"I'd forgive you more easily if you'd been here last month," Anna snapped. "What kept you?"

"There were things I'd got to tie up," he replied mysteriously.

"Dude, I hope none of those things were illegal," Dean remarked.

Sam grinned. "Nothing that's gonna come back to bite us," he assured him.

Despite her harsh words, Anna insisted that both her guys were present during the birth, even though the nurses were a little surprised that she wanted two of them there.

Afterwards, as the exhausted mother slept off the trauma in her hospital room, Dean took Sam to the cafeteria for a much needed fix of caffeine.

~0~

Sitting in the cafeteria, Sam took a slurp of his coffee and let out a long sigh.

"Dude, you don't know how good it is to be back," he said.

"Never asked you to leave, Sam," Dean remarked tersely.

Sam reached over and stroked the hand Dean had wrapped around his coffee mug.

"Ran away," he said. "Ran away again. Got a habit of doing that. Dunno why. Know it never solved any damn thing."

Dean stared at him for a while. "You taught me to face my demons, Sam. You gotta learn to face yours. Anna and me, we need to be able to trust you, trust you not to run out on us. You're gonna have to learn to stand and fight for what you want."

He paused for a second, glancing down at the table.

Then he whispered, "If we're worth fighting for."

"You're all I've ever wanted," Sam hissed desperately, "you and Anna. But mainly you. Anna is still very special to me. But you... you're everything, Dean. Everything."

Dean glanced around the almost deserted cafeteria, and then leaned over the table and planted a kiss on Sam's mouth.

"You better not screw this up, Sam," he warned. "Or I'm gonna kick your sorry ass right into next week."

~0~

They went and sat with Anna while she dozed in her room. After a while a nurse came along with the newborn baby girl and asked who was the father. Dean let Sam take the baby and be the first to hold her. He figured Sam was the one who needed to bond the most.

"Picked out a name?" Sam whispered, gently dandling the baby.

"We were thinking 'Deanna', maybe," Dean replied.

"Oh cool!" Sam responded. "Kinduva portmanteau thing of 'Dean' and 'Anna'. Like it."

"Yeah, well, we like it," Dean said. "And it was starting to look like you wouldn't be around to care."

Sam heaved a sigh, totally choked up.

"Been a fool, Dean," he whispered sadly. "Been acting like an ass. Gonna change."

"You bet ya," Dean concurred.

Anna opened sleepy eyes and watched the two guys cooing over their new infant. They looked so natural. They were going to make good parents for her little one.

She smiled to herself as she drifted off. This was what she had signed up for. The traditional Deltaic thing, the up-front commitment of the initial twosome, the sturdy strength of the triangle that the third angle gave to the relationship.

The regular people she dealt with every day in her divorce law practice would never know this kind of security. They had no conjugal glue to keep them together.

TBC

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><p>AN: Ahh! I hope everyone who took against Anna feels a little better about her now. More tomorrow.


	12. The Flashback

Summary: Withdrawn after an assault, pediatrician Dean is visited by handsome therapist Sam, a man with two shocking secrets. AU Sam/Dean slash romance. Warning: implied Alastair/Dean noncon

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><p>Conjugal Glue (Part 12: The Flashback) by frostygossamer<p>

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><p>When they finally had to leave the hospital for the night, Dean took Sam home to the penthouse. Since Dean still had a key, he and Anna had been staying there during the last few weeks of her pregnancy, and it had started to feel like home again.<p>

Dean got ready for bed while Sam, still tired and aching from his lengthy plane journey, took a very long, hot shower. Dean got into the bed and pulled the comforter up under his chin. He smiled at the comfiness of the familiar bed. Recently, he had been using the couch.

Sam came out of the bathroom with only a towel slung around his hips. He adjusted the lights to dim.

"You getting cosy in there, babe?" he asked.

"Snug as a freakin' bug," Dean agreed.

Sam pulled off his towel and used it to rub dry his floppy hair. Dean had to admire this image of a young Greek god before him. Man, that guy was gorgeous. But... Dean was still a little mad at him.

"Put something on if you're gonna sleep with me," he insisted.

Sam looked down at himself and shrugged. "Sure, babe."

With his towel around his shoulders, he rummaged in a drawer for a pair of thin cotton pajama pants which he slipped on. Then he threw the towel on a chair and joined Dean in the bed.

"Mmm," Sam purred. "You're wearing the sexy bunny PJs."

"They're supposed to be saying 'Hands off'," Dean pointed out.

"Then they're not working too good," Sam pouted. "But OK, if that's how you feel I totally get it."

"Sam," Dean began, leaning up on one elbow. "Don't think you're gonna walk straight back into this relationship like nothing happened. Still haven't forgiven you, man. You weren't straight with me, and that hurt."

"Never meant to hurt you, babe," Sam insisted. "Wouldn't do that to you."

"Well, you did, douchebag," Dean retorted. "Made me think all I was to you was some lame piece of ass to pass around. That was cold. Came damn close to ending it right there."

"Dean!" Sam gasped, eyes growing wide.

"Didn't end it over that fuck Alastair," Dean grumbled. "Wasn't the hell gonna do it over your worthless ass."

Sam grabbed him and rolled them both over so he was staring down into Dean's surprised face.

"I swear," he growled, "on my life, that I'm never gonna lie or keep shit from you, Dean. Never again."

"Wanna believe that," Dean grunted, unconvinced.

Sam let go of him and sat up abruptly.

"There's something you oughta know," he said.

~0~

Flashback...

Alastair stepped down from the prisoner transport parked behind the courthouse in Jackson, Miss. with a self-satisfied smirk flickering across his lips. Inside his pocket he fingered the slip of paper that had been thrust into his hand by a fake paparazzo.

It was a message from his dumb but stupidly loyal ex-wife. A break had been arranged. She had set it up, and this time she was sure it would be foolproof. All he had to do was disable his FBI escort. Should be a cool breeze.

They sat on a bench in the corridor outside the court waiting for their fifteen minutes of justice. The Fed, Henricksen, was twitchy and overstrung. He kept on checking his watch. He badly needed a smoke. Alastair bided his time. At five of the hour he made his move.

"Need the can," he declared abruptly.

Henricksen shook his head. "Hold it," he snapped.

"Don't bother me none. Do it right here," Alastair asserted, dragging the Fed's hand over to tug at his zipper.

"OK. OK," Henricksen agreed. "Restroom. Two minutes."

They walked to the nearest men's comfort station. Henricksen unholstered his sidearm and checked under each of the cubicle doors before relaxing and reholstering.

"Alright. Make it fast," he insisted.

Alastair raised their cuffed hands and jangled the chain.

"Gonna unlock 'em?" he asked with a smirk.

Henricksen debated for one second, and Alastair took advantage of his hesitation by suddenly spinning and twisting their joined arms up and around the Fed's neck. He tightened his hold as Henricksen struggled, until the black guy choked and passed out, crashing insensible to the bathroom floor.

Alastair cackled and, crouching on the tiles, he began to rummage with his free hand through the unconscious man's jacket pockets for his handcuff keys.

Crunch! The full weight of a heavy boot smashed down on Alastair's hand, still stuck inside Henricksen's pocket. He glanced up wildly and his gaze lighted on a grim face.

Sam stared coldly down at the puzzled convict. He leaned forward and snagged Henricksen's sidearm from his holster with a gloved hand.

"My ex send you?" Alastair asked uncertainly.

"Your ex?" Sam repeated. "I'm here to do your ex one big goddamn favour, bud."

Alastair relaxed a little and slumped down on the floor.

"Great," he sneered.

Sam chuckled as he checked the FBI firearm absently, fixing a silencer.

"Today's your lucky day, dude," he growled. "Today's the day you repent of your sins."

Baffled, Alastair showed his teeth nervously.

"Gotta get a move on. Gonna be missed soon," he stuttered.

"Oh, there's plenty time," Sam grunted, and stepping back he pointed the gun at Alastair's head. "Only takes one goddamn second."

Alastair crossed his hands in front of his face, Henricksen's arm hanging limply.

"No," he cried. "My ex... This was gonna be a break out. She sent you."

"Not exactly," Sam corrected him. "Not why I'm here. Got me a different agenda, bud."

"Then why?" Alastair demanded angrily. "Why you here? That bitch pay you to take me out? She's gonna..."

"Oh, this gig's for free, bud," Sam informed him. "This gig's payback."

"Payback?" Alastair repeated. "What the fuck! Payback for what?"

"Payback for the stupidest, brainsick damn thing you done in your goddamn worthless existence," Sam snarled. "Payback for a certain saint of a doctor you defiled."

Alastair ground his teeth in a contemptuous grimace.

"Dr. freakin' Sexy! Little ass pussy was asking for it. You some kinda goddamn Angel of Retribution, huh?"

"Yeah, that's right," Sam agreed darkly. "And now it's Judgement Day on your ass."

"Want me to say I'm sorry, mister?" Alastair whined.

"Hell no," Sam retorted. "I want you to SCREAM you're sorry!"

He placed the first two shots in the prisoner's kneecaps. Doof! Doof!

Alastair's pupils dilated with fear and agony. "No! NO!" he yelped.

"Now for the fun part," Sam smirked.

With that he put a bullet right in the guy's junk. The slug hit soft, wet flesh almost without a sound. Alastair screamed in torment and clutched at the gory mess, as life's blood streamed out from between his legs.

"Bastard!" he gasped voicelessly, writhing on the floor. "Aaaaaaaaa-argh!"

"In the next life," Sam remarked grimly. "Try not to have violated anyone belonging to an ex professional assassin."

The final shot between the eyes took Alastair's last despicable breath. Sam removed the silencer from Henricksen's weapon and dropped the gun on the floor beside the unconscious agent.

Then he was gone.

No one even noticed the nondescript, hunched-up janitor who emerged from the restroom and evaporated into the crowd.

...End of flashback

~0~

Dean exhaled loudly. "The hell!" he gasped, reeling in disbelief.

"And I got back here and found out you'd ODed after you saw the damn report on the TV. God, my heart stopped." Sam recalled.

"S-Sam," Dean stuttered, his face in his hands. "That was YOU? Hell, tried to call you and all the time you were in Jackson hitting that shit? Fuck!"

"Guess you didn't put two and two together cos you were in shock. Couldn't tell you about it, Dean," Sam whispered. "Didn't know how you'd take it. Was scared you wouldn't be able to look at me again, knowing what I done, in cold blood. This wasn't some paid hit. Nothing like what I done before. It was revenge, pure and simple. Did it for you, babe. Owed it to you."

He leaned over and pulled Dean's hands off of his face, so he could stare into his eyes.

"Can we get past this, Dean?" he asked softly. "Can you let it go? Or is it too much?"

Dean shook his head, overcome.

"You have got to be kidding me!" he gasped. "You have got to be freakin' kidding me!"

"Please, babe..." Sam began.

Dean punched him in the arm, hard.

"You stupid bastard," he said, full of emotion. "Sure it's OK. Hell, it's the best thing I ever heard," and he laughed. "You're my freakin' Batman, Sam, Dark freakin' Knight. Knew there was some goddamn reason I fell in love with you, you son of a bitch."

Enormous relief filled Sam's heart, as he let Dean take him in his arms and hold him tight. He hadn't ruined his one chance after all.

Dean loved him.

Dean pushed Sam down on the bed and lay on top of him for a moment, grinning insanely, then his grin vanished and he planted a kiss on Sam's mouth.

"There," he said. "Guess I'm letting you off this time. Can't bitch about news feels like the best damn birthday present ever."

"You're really cool with this?" Sam asked, still unsure.

"Probably crazy but yeah, Sam," Dean assured him. "In fact, I'm gonna let you unwrap THIS present right now. Cos you got my heart beating like a jackhammer."

He grabbed Sam's hand and pushed it up inside his PJ jacket, where Sam could feel his heart beat.

"Dean, babe," he gasped, and rolled Dean onto his side, pressing his half-naked body up close to Dean's back.

Sam rubbed up against Dean's cotton-clad butt. Dean chuckled as he felt Sam run a hopeful finger inside the waistband of his PJ bottoms.

"Guess the bunnies were a total fail as a turn off," he snickered.

Sam hummed his agreement into the nape of Dean's neck, as he gently tugged down their pants. Sam was always gentle with Dean. He knew he had to go slow and take care not to awaken memories of the bad times and the pain his lover had been through. That was what it meant to love someone and Dean was grateful.

"Been a long time," Dean murmured. "Missed the feel of you."

"Too long," Sam murmured back. "Reckoned... reckoned I'd lost you, babe. Tore out my heart. Never, never put our love on the line again," and he pulled Dean against his chest, tighter, deeper.

"Awesome, Sammy," Dean purred, as Sam stimulated that deliciously familiar buzz to flood his body.

Dean knew he only felt alive when his Sam was with him. And, to tell the truth, he could have forgiven him almost anything, when he had him here in his bed.

Anything.

TBC

* * *

><p>AN: Of course Dean had to be the last person on earth who didn't know. :) Two last chapters coming soon.


	13. The Connection

Summary: Withdrawn after an assault, pediatrician Dean is visited by handsome therapist Sam, a man with two shocking secrets. AU Sam/Dean slash romance. Warning: implied Alastair/Dean noncon

* * *

><p>AN: Warning for diehard anti-wincest-ers: Beware of a hint in this chapter that is immediately explained away.

* * *

><p>Conjugal Glue (Part 13: The Connection) by frostygossamer<p>

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><p>Sam had contacted his friend the realtor, and he and Dean had spent all weekend looking around likely properties. They were looking for a family home, not too far from the hospital, handy for Sam's new office, in easy reach of a good school and with room enough for all four of them to be comfortable.<p>

With three salaries, and what Sam had squirreled away from his life of crime, they could afford something pretty great, even without touching Sam's billionaire father for a sub. The realtor was joyful at the prospect of her commission.

They finally chose a handsome mansion of a place that kind of reminded Dean of the Singer home, only several decades more up-to-date.

"Gonna need a maid," Dean remarked, swiping a dusty banister. "And, I guess, maybe a cook?"

"I do the cooking!" Sam insisted. "No one touches my kitchen but me."

"Princess," Dean commented snarkily.

The realtor gave then a cheerful grin. "Whenever you're ready to sign the contract...?" she began.

"Guess we oughta let Anna have a look-see," Sam suggested.

Dean shook his head. "She's gonna love it. Anyways she's only gonna be here on weekends and holidays. Weeknights she'll stay over in town."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, that's right," he agreed. "Just like Dad. Weeknights I'm gonna get you all to myself."

~0~

The first visitor they had to their new place was Castiel. He came bustling in anxious to impart some important news he had gathered.

Sam was upstairs seeing to their baby Deanna when he arrived. Dean took him into the kitchen to make them both coffee.

"It's about your parentage," Castiel began.

"My what?" Dean spluttered. "Jeez, you mean that family tree crap Sam said you were looking into. Thought that had gotten elbowed aside in the scrimmage. What does any of it matter anyways?"

"Well, Dean, don't you wonder how come you're a zemale like me when your parents, John and Mary, claimed to be regular folks?" Castiel asked. "Don't you think that's a little odd?"

Dean passed Castiel a mug and sat down next to him at the counter. He took a swig of his coffee.

"Guess I never thought about it. Mom and Dad had to be Deltaic, huh?"

"Well, no actually," Castiel responded. "But there certainly had to be Deltaic genes somewhere in the mix. And I finally figured it out."

"OK," Dean said. "Surprise me, Cas."

"Dean, you're going to find this very interesting," Castiel said flatly. "Apparently while your mom Mary was at Med School she had an acquaintance name of Robert Singer."

Dean's mug dropped to the floor with a splintering crash, splashing coffee across the tiles.

"Bullcrap!" Dean exclaimed.

"I have no doubts as to the veracity of this information, Dean," Castiel insisted earnestly.

Dean shook his head in disbelief.

"Let me get this straight, Cas. You're trying to tell me Mom knew Bobby Singer? THE Bobby Singer? Sam's Pop?"

"Yes," Castiel agreed. "She knew him very well, and we can only speculate in a biblical sense. He also knew her fiance John. Seemingly they were in the habit of getting 'smashed' together, on a frequent basis."

Well, Dean did know his Mom had been a hot babe, and his Dad liked his whiskey. He tried to remain calm and absorb these new facts sensibly.

"Don't like the sound of this," he said slowly. "You're gonna say Mom and Dad got themselves liquored up with their pal Bobby, and nine months later I was born. That it, Cas?"

Castiel nodded. "Bobby claims he has no recollection of the, ahem, occasion, but the fact that you are what you are would indicate his involvement was somewhat implicit."

"Just can't imagine my folks being the 'experimenting' type, is all. And not sure that I want to," Dean commented, with a shudder.

The idea of his Dad getting 'jiggy' with Bobby Singer flashed through his head, leaving an unsavoury afterimage.

"Yeck!"

"Indeed. But you are aware of the propensities of medical students for promiscuous behaviour," Castiel pointed out.

Dean knew first hand that was no lie.

"Please don't judge them, Dean. They were all very young," Castiel added, like that was any excuse.

This wasn't any sort of news Dean had wanted to hear.

"Dude, grossness aside, that has to mean that Bobby is my Pop, right?"

"Indeed," Castiel agreed again.

"And Bobby knew about this all the damn time? Jeez."

"Ah well, no. Bobby knew Mary Campbell quite, um, well but only knew her fiance as John. He made no connection with the Winchester surname until I did."

Dean frowned. "So what does that make me to Sam, huh? We got one parent in common. That make us brothers, third-brothers, some kinda freakin' brothers?"

"It makes you one third siblings," Castiel concurred matter-of-factly. "But, of course, you two are twice as unrelated as you are related."

Dean took a deep breath, feeling a touch of nightmare creep into his little Eden. "But that's incest, right?" he stuttered (*)

"Technically, yes," Castiel agreed. "But, paradoxically, you're mathematically even less consanguineous than regular first cousins."

No longer listening, Dean sagged heavily. He felt bruised, hurting.

"So," he sighed resignedly. "Guess that's it, huh?"

He knew that this thing between him and Sam had been too good to last. Somehow Dean never could get a lucky break.

~0~

The door opened and Sam, drawn by the sound of breaking ceramic, burst into the kitchen looking anxious. One glance took in Dean's dejected mood.

"What did you tell him, Cas?" he demanded sharply.

"I only answered his questions, Sam," Castiel replied defensively. "I told him you two are thirders, as I told you on the telephone. That's all."

Sam shook his head and threw an arm around Dean's shoulders.

"He didn't need to know that from you, Cas," he said. "I was gonna tell him it's not important. He doesn't know that it's cool, that we don't even register the zero parent legally."

Then he turned back to Dean. "It's fine, Dean," he assured him. "It doesn't make any difference, babe. It won't stop us being together."

Dean looked up at him, a flash of anger in his eyes.

"It's still goddamn wrong, Sam," he snapped.

Sam scoffed. "Wrong? Hell, what's 'wrong'? It's only as wrong as you feel. And you don't feel wrong about us, do you?"

Dean exhaled and considered. "No, Sam," he said. "Guess not. But..."

"Dude, since when have you cared what anyone else thinks?" Sam cut in.

"Never worried what people thought before, not gonna start now." Dean agreed.

"There then," Sam concluded, squeezing his shoulder. "No need to worry. Everything's good. We're good. Right?"

Dean nodded stiffly. "Yeah, Sam," he agreed, slightly reluctantly.

Sam hugged him tight and, with his eyes, signalled for Castiel to leave the room.

Castiel hurried away with his tail between his legs, faintly puzzled. He had only been trying to help.

~0~

That night Dean was laying there thoughtful, when Sam finished fussing with the baby and came to bed. He leaned across to give Dean a quick kiss and fumble, but Dean slapped his hand away.

"It doesn't bother you?" Dean demanded.

Sam looked down at him. "What, babe?" he asked, confused for a moment. "Uh, you mean being thirders?"

Dean nodded. "Thirders? That what you call it? Yeah. Being thirders, goddamn brothers. Don't freak you out?"

Sam sighed and shook his head. "Cas was just trying to make you feel like you belong. It's honestly not a big deal."

Dean didn't feel convinced. "How could it NOT be a big deal?"

"Dude, it means we're like one ninth related," he explained, sitting on the bed. "Half-brothers are a quarter, even first cousins are an eighth. Anyplace, 'cept for maybe on the moon, we could even get married."

"Oh, that right?" Dean responded, perking up just a little.

Sam grinned at his lover. "You wanna go someplace and get married, cuddle-bunny?"

"Not if you're gonna call me that, jerk-ass," Dean retorted sharply.

He REALLY did not like sappy pet names, or at least he pretended not to.

"And if I don't?" Sam asked again, now serious.

Dean considered. "Been married, Sam, and, yeah, I liked being married. Don't like being divorced. Makes me feel like a loser."

Sam chuckled. "Reckon it's something we could think about, huh?"

After a moment's silence Dean nodded slowly. "Maybe. We'll see."

Sam gave him a little peck on the mouth.

"And," he continued, returning to the original subject. "Means like you're not an orphan, Dean. You got a real live Pop. Good, huh?"

Dean smiled uncertainly. "Guess so," he allowed.

Sam rolled over onto his back and pulled Dean on top of him. He ran his hands over Dean's hips, tracing the smooth curve of the pelvis under his thumbs. Despite himself Dean moaned softly under his touch.

"Do you even know how beautiful you are, babe?" Sam whispered.

Dean pursed his lips. "Don't start with that crap," he retorted. "Telling me I'm pretty ain't gonna get you anyplace."

Sam laughed. "Not gonna lie, Dean. You gotta be the hottest thing I ever saw. Sweetie, you are totally smokin'."

Dean fidgeted irritably. "Quit it," he commanded. "That sorta talk's gonna do nothing for me. You want a girl, you go find yourself some chick, man."

Sam was finding Dean's attempts to defend his masculinity adorable.

"Some chick's not what I want, Dean," he said. "YOU are exactly what I need. You're so damn perfect."

"Damn it," Dean grouched. "Suppose we just agree you keep your mouth shut. Suppose I shut it for ya."

He leaned in and effectively ended the conversation by kissing Sam long and deep. Sam forgot how to speak.

~0~

Six months later, Dean was making a quick visit to the supermarket in a break from work. He was hurrying around the store, with his little pink bundle of joy in a shopping cart. Steaming around a corner, who should he run into but his ex, Lisa, her fingers wrapped tight around the tiny hand of an angelic, golden-haired little boy.

There was a heartbeat of silence as both hesitated to be the first to speak.

"Hi, Lisa," Dean said, breaking the ice. "How you been?"

Lisa smiled. "I've been fine, Dean," she replied. "Everything's fine. How about you?"

Dean inhaled. "Fingers crossed. Everything seems to be working out," he answered.

Lisa giggled self-consciously and ruffled her little boy's hair.

"Yours?" Dean asked, a rhetorical question. "What's his name?"

"His name's Ben," she replied. "Isn't it, honey?"

"And his Dad?" he inquired cautiously.

Lisa waved a dismissive hand.

"Gabriel? That candy-ass vanished. Pfft! But that's fine." she answered, then added wistfully, "Funny thing is though, sometimes this little guy reminds me more of you."

Dean nodded for some unknown reason.

"And you?" Lisa asked. "This little cutie...?"

"Deanna. She's mine," Dean replied emphatically.

"Oh?" Lisa remarked.

With their history she felt slightly dubious of that, but decided not to probe for medical details.

"Seriously," Dean added. "I'm her... Pop."

That word, still new and piquant on his tongue, made him grin stupidly.

Lisa nodded, agreeing to believe him.

"I'm back at work. And I've gotten engaged," he went on, anxious to convince Lisa that he wasn't some broken shell without her.

He hesitated for a moment then added, "To a guy."

He thought maybe that would let her down gently.

"Oh?" she repeated, sounding not as surprised as he would have liked her to be.

"Listen," he said. "Why don't you come over sometime. Catch up. I'd like that. Meet Sam. And Anna, Deanna's Mom."

Lisa shook her head, starting to form an excuse, and then she visibly changed her mind.

"Actually, I'd love that," she said.

Dean grinned. "Great. Then that's a date."

The more the merrier, he thought, as he settled Deanna in the car later. They should fill that big house with family, friends and kids, lots of kids. That little angel Ben would have been his, if Lisa had had her wish. He could afford to extend the hand of friendship and forgiveness.

Because, after all, family is the most important thing in the world.

TBC

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><p>AN: Yes, I know this chapter was just a bit of a loose ends tie-up. Final chapter tomorrow.

(*) Sorry about sneaking a hint of wincest in here, but I couldn't resist thinking about the maths of ternary relationships. I extrapolated the numbers based on a table on Wikipedia page 'Coefficients of Relationship'. Anyway, conveniently, there can be no existing laws or commandments about 3-gender relations to break. Plus I thought it would be nice to give Dean back one parent.


	14. The Wedding

Summary: Withdrawn after an assault, pediatrician Dean is visited by handsome therapist Sam, a man with two shocking secrets. AU Sam/Dean slash romance. Warning: implied Alastair/Dean noncon

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><p>AN: One last chapter.

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><p>Conjugal Glue (Part 14: The Wedding) by frostygossamer<p>

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><p>Karen smoothed the shoulders of Dean's white suit and stepped back, surveying her handiwork proudly.<p>

"Dean, you look a picture," she said, beaming.

Dean glanced down dubiously at the ridiculously frilly shirt Anna had picked out.

"Feel like the bastard son of Fat Elvis and Travolta in this thing," he snorted.

Karen giggled. "Now don't you bitch about it, sonny. You look absolutely fabulous," she said.

'Drop-dead gorgeous' was what she was thinking.

Dean winced. "Last time, least I looked like the guy," he muttered.

"We don't speak about 'last time' today, sonny," Karen reprimanded him lightly. "Today is going to be perfect. Because today you're going to marry the two most perfect people in the world."

Dean grinned. "Gotta agree," he said.

This whole situation seemed surreal. Today he was going to be married to Sam AND to Anna. It was going to be a traditional Deltaic wedding, straight from the old country. Dean still found it all pretty hard to believe.

"Kinda surprised the Greek Orthodox Church is up for these three-way shenanigans. Not exactly 'orthodox', would've thought," he commented.

Karen chuckled conspiratorially. "The Syndicate has a great deal of influence over our favourite priest, Father Jim," she explained.

She refolded Dean's display-only handkerchief and stuffed it back in his pocket.

"The dear man, he's prepared to bless almost anything. In return for a suitable donation to the church coffers, that is."

Dean laughed. "Fergus has deep pockets, huh?" he remarked. "BTW, what is this Syndicate everyone talks about, anyways? Some kinda Deltaic mafia? Fergus kinda has that Godfather vibe."

Ever since Dean had first met him, he had had the feeling Fergus wasn't as squeaky-clean as he pretended. The guy didn't even use his own name.

Karen smirked. "Nothing so colourful, sonny. Some folks would call it a 'Ladies' Committee'. We do the flowers, organize coffee mornings, baby showers, that sort of thing. Sometimes we do a little off-track betting on the side. There's really nothing more too it."

Dean was a little disappointed. "Nothing? Seriously?" he chuckled. "So you're not an underworld gang of sinister Scarfaces who meet in dimly lit, smoke-filled rooms and arrange for guys to get 'whacked'?"

Karen leaned up to him and placed a little peck on his cheek. "If you say so," she agreed.

Dean's eyes widened. "No shit," he breathed.

Karen primped the bunch of artificial flowers pinned to her pale blue dress and turned to leave. As she opened the door she paused to quietly explain.

"The Syndicate are MOTHERS, Dean. The Syndicate cares."

Truly, there is nothing on earth more dangerous to cross than a mother.

~0~

Outside, Sam was spending his last unwed minutes with his Dad. They both stood there, hands in pockets, kicking stones and not making eye contact. Fergus was grinning like a monkey, never a good thing in Sam's experience of the guy.

"Hate to admit it but I'm impressed, Samuel," he said. "Never thought you had it in you to come through as a 'mensch'."

"Yeah, well, you weren't the only one," Sam retorted. "Kinda doubted it myself for a while."

Fergus laughed. "I had my doubts too, you know," he agreed. "Before I met up with Bobby and his Karen, I thought I knew everything. Thought I was better than common humanity."

"And you don't now?" Sam asked acidly.

Fergus shook his head, dismissing the remark.

"Now I know that 'common humanity' is one of the most valuable things on this earth, son. It's valuable because it has no price. You can't buy it. Even with all my net worth."

"Really?" Sam responded.

"Oh, indubitably," Fergus replied.

"So you're saying you're glad to see me getting married?" Sam interpreted.

"Yes, but don't think that means I'm putting you back in my will," Fergus commented. "However, if little Deanna should grow up with a business head on her little shoulders, who knows..."

Sam realized that that was probably as close to a cease-fire as he was ever going to get with his Dad.

"Hug?" he suggested.

Fergus rolled his eyes, but moved forward and hugged his son with as much dignity as a small man could hug a giant.

~0~

When Dean entered the chapel, Anna was standing before the altar, radiant as all heck in her handmade lace gown. Her impeccably manicured hands were trembling. Dean took one hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. Their eyes met and she smiled nervously.

"Gonna be fine," he hissed.

Her smile widened. "I know," she answered.

Sam's and Anna's parents, all six of them, were sitting in the front pew looking proud, Bobby doubly so. He turned to Lisa, who had come to support Dean.

"We saved two spaces for John and Mary, case they chose to attend in spirit," he explained. "Which I'm darn sure they'll do."

Lisa sat there bemused and smiling, with little Ben, Dean's new godson, on her lap. She still didn't quite understand what was going on, but she appreciated that Dean had wanted her there. There was something about him that reminded her of the old Dean she had first met.

"I'm just happy for Dean," she told Bobby, strangely choked. "Happy for all of them."

~0~

Sam paused to take a bracing breath just outside the double doors of the chapel, then he stepped purposefully into the aisle.

He was whip-smart in his silver-gray morning coat. As he gazed down the aisle toward the spot where the two most important people in his life stood side by side, waiting for him impatiently yet again, he thought his heart might actually burst right there. He heaved an enormous, rib-cracking sigh and joined then at the altar.

"This is it," he thought, smiling at them both, and acknowledged them. "Darling. Babe."

Castiel flashed him a bittersweet smile. He was multitasking, as maid of honour, best man and ring-bearer rolled up in one. After all, it was Castiel who had brought them together. He deserved to be a part of the big day.

"Good luck," Castiel mouthed silently.

It was going to be a full Deltaic wedding, a little Orthodox, and a little something unique. The betrothal blessing was all Greek to Dean, who stole sideways glances at the other two, heads bowed reverently. A complicated ring exchange then took place.

Sam finally slipped a simple white gold band onto Dean's right hand, in the Greek custom, and Dean slipped a similar one onto Anna's finger. Sam received the final ring from Anna.

Father Jim pronounced the nuptial blessing, they sipped from a common cup of wine and they were done. Then they all kissed, Sam clumsily stepping on Anna's train, nearly bringing them down in a tangled heap. Laughter filled the little chapel.

"That's a dang good omen," Bobby whispered, elbowing Fergus who rolled his eyes.

~0~

The happy trio were going to Vegas, because you do. So they were driving to the airport.

That afternoon, as they piled into Sam's car giggling and stupidly pleased with themselves, Sam at the wheel and Dean and Anna on the backseat, Bobby hurried out with little Deanna draped over his shoulder.

"Now don't y'all worry one bit. Karen and me're gonna take real good care of the little mischief-maker while you're gone. Just enjoy yourselves."

He handed the infant off to Karen and shook Sam's hand firmly.

"Remember, don't bet all ya money in one place, son," he said.

Then he grabbed Dean's hand and squeezed it bone-crushingly in both of his.

"And you, sonny, don't you forget that dice game's called craps for a reason."

Finally he leaned in and kissed Anna on her proffered cheek before stepping back.

"And most of all have fun, girlie."

Dean flinched. "Jeez, I finally get it," he gasped. "He's been calling me 'sonny' and pulping my paw from day one and I only just twigged that it means something."

Sam turned and looked at him like he was dim.

"Oh yeah?" he scoffed affectionately. "Nothing gets past you, right?"

Dean punched him on the shoulder as he pulled the car out of the drive.

"That sorta snark don't suit you, Gigantor," Dean complained.

Anna butted in, chuckling.

"Hey, guys, sober up and keep your eyes on the road, or one of you is going to end up sleeping on the floor tonight."

Sam shut up immediately and made a buttoning his lip gesture.

"Didn't think..." Dean cut himself off. "Was the plan that we all...?"

Sam glanced over his shoulder, big grin on his face.

"Booked a suite with a king-size bed, kiddos," he growled, wriggling his eyebrows.

"Don't act like a prude, Dean," Anna chuckled. "This is our wedding night we're talking about. It's tradition."

"Didn't realize I was going to end up the PB&J in some kinky-ass sex sandwich," Dean protested.

Anna doubled up laughing. "Oh poor baby. The look on your face. You'd think we'd suggested forcing you to be our sex slave."

"Hey, steady there, Anna," Sam interrupted, mindful of Dean's sensibilities. "It's OK, Dean. Just a symbolic thing. No biggie."

Anna wiped her eyes and smiled.

"Yes, Dean darling, tonight we're just going to hold hands and lay there thinking about our 'Matrimonial Duty'," she explained. "Tomorrow night I'll leave you two alone, and you can screw each other silly in peace."

Sam grinned. "Or we can draw for it," he teased.

"Seriously? Because I could take either one of you without breaking a sweat." Dean retorted, getting into the joke.

Anna grabbed his face in both hands and pressed a big sloppy kiss to his mouth.

"You know," she said. "You guys are going to be fun to come home to."

Sam glanced in the rear-view and pouted.

"Dean, you wanna drive while Anna and ME smooch in the back, huh?" he asked.

Anna giggled. "Feeling left out, darling?" she queried, playfully.

Sam readjusted the mirror and turned his attention back to the road.

"Just leave a little sugar for me, babe," he said.

"Oh, I got plenty sugar to go round," Dean smirked, and he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the corner of Sam's jaw. "Always plenty left for my Sammy."

Anna smiled as she watched her two best guys flirt with each other. Then she pulled Dean back into the backseat.

"Let him concentrate on his driving, Dean," she scolded. "Keep me company."

Dean happily let her snuggle up against him.

"Feel like... Jeez, dunno how I feel, but it's sure as hell good," he declared.

Dean had always had a lot of love to give. Used to be he wasted it on the wrong people. Now he had special people who were going to love him as much as he deserved, and all he had to do was love them back. Piece of cake, easy as pie.

And that's conjugal glue.

The End.

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><p>AN: Well, that's it. Hope it left you feeling suitably fluffy.


End file.
